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The Silica Gel Pseudomorph 


And Other Stories 


BY 

EDWARD HART, ■ 

M 

Author of “ Our Farm in Cedar Valley.” 


EASTON, PA. 

THE CHEMICAL PUBLISHING CO. 

1924 


London, England: 

WILLIAMS &. NORGATE 
H HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W. C. 


TOKYO, japan: 

MARUZEN COMPANY. LTD. 
11-16 NlHONBASHI tori-sanchome. 





Copyright, 1924, by Edward Hart 


✓ 


V 


OCT 18 *24 ^ 


©Cl AS08402 




To Harvey Washington Wiley, 

Scholar, Teacher, Poet, Writer and Speaker 
Fearless Publicist, Lifelong Friend. 


I have a boy who loves to have 
me tell him stories. True stories usually 
need modification and adornment if 
they are to remain interesting, and so 
many stories told him were embellished. 
These stories have been written for my 
own amusement at night while others 
were sleeping or as a rest between more 
serious tasks. Some of these are true, 
some partly true and some are products 
of the imagination. 

Edward Hart. 

October 1, 1924 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Sieica Gee Pseudomorph . i 

Peep-Chick Mountain ....,. 12 

Round Vaeeey . 16 

Mont L’Hery . 22 

Death Vaeeey . 31 

The Professor's Story . 41 

My Friend Zahn . 52 

Just Samuee Jones . 67 

Fat and Lean . 83 

Woozy . 90 

The Hermit . 93 

Sandy's Story . 96 

The Hoboes . 99 

Jumping Steee . 103 

Aee the Way from Meebourne . 108 

A Defense of the Weaethy . 113 

The Skin of the Bear . 119 

A Visit from the Wieeys . 124 

In the Days of the Roses .. 133 

The Red Devie . 151 



























The Silica Gel Pseudomorph 


South Jersey is a very sandy country. There are miles 
and miles of sand there. Some of it is very pure white 
sand used for making glass and for molding sand. Some 
of this sand has sharp edges but most of it is rounded 
as if the grains had rolled around until the edges were 
worn away. Mr. Kummel has written a paper about 
this sand in the Report of the New Jersey State Geo¬ 
logical Survey for 1906. His paper is entitled “The 
Glass Sand Industry of New Jersey.” It is a very inter¬ 
esting paper though you might not think so from the 
title. 

There are also very large beds of green and red sand. 
The green sand is especially interesting because it con¬ 
tains such immense amounts of alumina, iron and potash. 
If our chemists can only find cheap methods for extract¬ 
ing these substances we shall have enough to last us 
forever. 

The most curious thing about this green sand is that 
it is still forming in the water along our coasts. Here 
the limestone shells of dead foraminifera are slowly 
filling up with the green substance as their bodies decay. 
The shells are slowly dissolved by the sea water at the 
same time, so that the green sand grains give a perfect 
cast of the inside of the shells. 


2 


THE SIIyICA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


I became interested in this sand while I was in college. 
The professor sent me down to Mullica Hill to get a 
load of it to experiment with. He wanted to find a way 
to work it. At Mullica Hill I heard that a farmer by 
the name of Peter Norman had a pit on his farm. One 
of the loafers there offered to go along and show me 
the way. I told him he might go if he would get the 
farmer to let me have a load of sand for nothing and 
help me load. This he promised to do. On the way he 
informed me that Norman’s daughter, Euphemia, had 
taken a notion to him and that probably they would jine 
up. I said I was looking for a wife myself and if I 
liked her looks I would take her along, but I must be 
sure first that she was a good cook. He looked me over 
as if I were some kind of an insect and asked me how 
much I weighed. I told him all of fifty tons. 

When we got to the house Euphemia came to the door 
herself. I must say she was a fine looking girl with 
very mischievous eyes. She said her father was down 
at the other end of the farm and my friend had better 
go and get him. Then she giggled. When he had gone 
she looked at me and giggled some more. Said I might 
go ahead and take all the sand I wanted. I asked her 
if she was sure her father would be willing and she said: 
Sure! She said she would show me the pit and got on 
the seat beside me. As we drove along she told me that 


the silica gel pseudomorph 


3 


one of her girl friends had told Sim she was gone on 
him. 

I said, “yes, so he told me.” 

“Did he ?” says she, “the poor simp!” 

“If you go about breaking hearts like that,” said I, 
“you’ll get in jail next. I understand that the sheriff 
has been instructed to jug all the flappers.” This made 
her giggle some more. 

She stood by the side of the pit while I threw the sand 
into the truck. After I had been digging a bit my shovel 
struck something that felt like rubber. It was round 
like a rubber ball as I uncovered it and larger than a 
canteloupe. I tried to throw it out, but it seemed to be 
fastened to something at one side. I went on digging 
and was getting interested when I heard some one 
shouting, and there was the farmer coming as fast as he 
could, waving his arms and shouting with all the breath 
he had left. When he reached the pit he was puffing and 
blowing so he could hardly speak, but he made it plain 
that he was cross because I had dug without permission, 
said I had no business to do it, it was trespass, and he 
had a great mind to have me arrested. 

I said that his daughter had allowed me to dig but 
this did not seem to satisfy him. Euphemia told him I 
wasn’t hurting anything and he needn’t make a goose 
of himself, so he quieted down. Asked what the round 


4 


THE SILICA GEL PSEUDOMORPH 


ball was ? I told him I didn’t know and he got a shovel 
and dug too. After awhile the girl said: 

“Why it looks like a man!” 

It did, too. We went on digging and uncovered his 
legs and then his feet. They were feet all right, but he 
was the queerest looking thing you ever saw. After he 
was uncovered we turned him over and I declare he 
had a nose, mouth and ears; it was a man! But the 
oddest looking man you ever saw. His body was nearly 
transparent; like cloudy glass. You could see all his 
bones through this. He looked like stiff jelly with pieces 
of cotton in it. We looked at him and then at one an¬ 
other. 

“Well, I vum,” said Papa. 

“Did you ever,” said Phemy. 

“Geewhitakers,” said Sim. 

The farmer brought out a wide board and we rolled 
him on it. Then I nailed narrow boards on the side, so 
that he was in a kind of a trough. There he lay, glisten¬ 
ing in the sunlight. When I looked up I saw that 
Euphemia was giggling again. 

“Why the laugh?” said I. 

“Don’t you think he looks funny? I never expected 
to see a man’s bones like that.” 

It hadn’t struck me that way before but it was funny, 
and I had to laugh too. Just then the man sneezed. 


THE SILICA GEL PSEUDOMORPH 


5 


Euphemia gathered up her skirts, for she had on a long 
dress, not one of the bathing suits the flappers wear on 
the streets nowadays, and made a bee line for the house. 
I felt kind of scary myself. It isn’t every day, I can 
tell you, that you dig up a jelly corpse and have him 
sneeze just as life-like! Pop Norman by this time was 
as white as a sheet. But what the corpse did next cer¬ 
tainly made me stare. He opened one eye, and after 
looking around a bit, confused-like, he looked at me, 
and winked. I certainly was flabbergasted. Then he 
opened the other eye and sat up. Then the farmer 
scooted. The corpse began to talk to himself in some 
kind of outlandish jabber. I thought it sounded like 
Spanish but it came out like lightning and I couldn’t get 
it. I had studied Spanish at college but I was not very 
well acquainted with it. After saying the same thing 
over three or four times he turned to me and said it 
again—slowly, and quite imperiously. He was asking 
where his clothes were. I said I didn’t know but would 
enquire. I went to the house and found Euphemia very 
badly scared and the old man drinking blackberry brandy. 
He called it a cordial. I insisted that he get some clothes 
for the stranger and we picked out an old suit I thought 
might fit. I took these out to the Spaniard but he was 
much displeased with them and said he was not ac¬ 
customed to such garb. I told him it was that or nothing 


6 


THE SIRICA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


and the girl was coming so finally he put them on. He 
seemed to be about as spry as ordinary people, and his 
manner was very polite. 

Euphemia got over her fright after awhile and came 
downstairs but she seemed quite shook up. After awhile 
the Spaniard tried to talk to her but of course she 
couldn’t understand until I translated for her. After 
awhile she seemed to like to hear what he said. His 
talk was quite high-flown, and after every few words he 
would put his hand on his chest and make a low bow. 
This seemed to suit Euphemia. 

It was getting on towards evening and I was obliged 
to leave but I asked Euphemia to take care of him and 
I promised to bring a Spanish book so she could make 
out what he said, and I told him to stay here until I 
got back. He promised to do so and I went away. 

When I told the professor about my glass man he 
smiled and smiled. He said the Spaniard must be a 
silica gel pseudomorph, and he was surprised and de¬ 
lighted he or it could talk Spanish, and when he said 
this he grinned like a Cheshire cat. I got a Spanish 
dictionary and phrase book at the college bookstore and 
went back next day. I found he was trying to explain 
the difference between ser and estar. It struck me that 
was a funny thing to do, but he seemed rather touchy, 
so I gave her the books and went back to college. I was 


THE SIEICA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


7 


very busy the rest of the term and couldn’t get away, 
but as soon as possible I went back. They were out 
riding the old man said, and he seemed rather put out. 

When they came back I tried to tell her about the 
green sand, but she didn’t seem to be interested and he 
yawned; so, after talking to the old man for awhile I 
came away. She didn’t ask me to come again. He was 
polite but quite formal. 

I saw no more of the Normans nor of my Spanish 
friend for a month. I was in Trenton one afternoon and 
was walking on the street when who should I run into 
but the Normans. They were staying with an aunt of 
hers and I went with them. We sat up pretty late that 
night while Euphemia told me about the Spaniard. She 
said she wondered I hadn’t heard about it; part of it, it 
seemed, had got into the newspapers. 

She told me she soon got so she could talk Spanish 
pretty well. It was not difficult except that miserable 
ser and estar. They both meant the same thing and you 
were pretty sure to use the wrong one. I told her it was 
like the old lady who knew the difference between soldier 
and shoulder but never could tell which was which. She 
said the Spaniard talked all the time. He was so polite 
that at first she liked him pretty well, but he never 
seemed to like her father and didn’t treat him very well. 
He claimed to be a hidalgo, which appeared to be some 


8 


THE SIUCA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


kind of a nobleman. He was terribly stuck on himself. 
He was a ferocious eater and kept her cooking most of 
the time. He was always asking for dos huevos fritas 
or came de vaca. “He kept me fryin eggs or Dad 
runnin to town for meat all the time. I believe he 
could eat a gallon of soup, and it took so much butter 
to fry the papa fritas that we had none left for any¬ 
thing else. He was fond of fish, too, and was always 
askin for them. This got so bad that Dad and I con¬ 
cluded we had better take him down to the shore where 
fish don’t cost so much. By this time something got the 
matter with him. It had been rather cool and moist up 
to this time but by the time we were ready to start there 
was a hot dry spell. Before this you could see every¬ 
thing inside his head except where the bones were in the 
way. But now white patches like snow began to grow 
on his face, and pretty soon he began to look like a 
snow man. His face was perfectly white without a 
trace of color. It was frightful. I kinda liked his looks 
before that. You needn’t laugh; you like the good 
lookin women best, and I don’t see any reason why we 
shouldn’t like the good lookin men.” 

“If he didn’t get what he wanted at once he flew into 
an awful rage, and it was pretty fierce, I can tell you, 
to have Snow White rampagin around. So we took him 
to the shore, or at least we started for the shore. He 


THE SIUCA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


9 


had a sword that the blacksmith had made for him out 
of an old scythe of Dad’s and belt around him to hold it. 
I said we might be arrested for carrying such things 
around, but Dad said you could not carry concealed 
weapons, but nothing was said about other kinds, and 
there was nothing concealed about that sword. So we 
started off in the wagon, and he sat in the front seat 
with Dad. Pretty soon I noticed that little white scales 
was driftin down from him on the floor. It was hot 
that day but he didn’t seem to feel it in any other way, 
but all the time those little white scales kept siftin down 
’till the floor was all white. I didn’t like to say anything 
for fear of hurtin his feelings but I got mighty nervous. 

“We had been on the way about an hour when he 
spied some oranges in a store we was passin, and he got 
out, went in and took them. Didn’t stop to pay, just 
took them and came out. The store keeper came out 
and said, politely, that he had forgotten to pay, but Snow 
White flew into a rage and began to swear frightful. 
He pulled out his sword and chased the store keeper into 
his store. Then we drove on, but by this time Dad and 
I were scared stiff. About an hour later we passed 
through Swedesboro when a little fellow with a star on 
his coat came up and told us we were his prisoners. 
The Spaniard jumped out and ran at him with the 
sword. The constable was plucky; he pulled out a pistol 


10 


the; siuca gex pse;udomorph 


and fired at the Spaniard, but he didn’t hit him, and 
the Spaniard chased him a ways down the road. We 
drove on then but more scared than before. I asked the 
Spaniard if he wasn’t afraid of being put in jail but he 
said no, they wouldn’t dare touch a hidalgo. 

“Pretty soon we came to a cross road and somebody 
yelled at us from a clump of bushes ‘Surrender in the 
name of the law.’ But that didn’t frighten him. He 
just jumped out and charged that clump and drove the 
two men in it down the road. By this time we were 
almost to Pennsgrove. I was so scared that I got off 
and ran down a side street and Dad after me. We didn’t 
see any more of him but we was told he drove in as 
large as life and met the Sheriff, with two deputies. He 
chased them and cut one of them pretty bad. Then he 
ran to the wharf, jumped on a fishing boat, cut the cable 
and started down the river. The revenue cutter got 
after him and they fired a shot at the boat. This made 
her fill and she went down but they managed to pull him 
out. Of course he got very wet. They took him ‘to 
the jail, gave him some dry clothes and put him in a 
cell. They captured Dad and me too, but after they had 
asked us a lot of questions they concluded we wasn’t 
to blame and let us go. I went to see the Spaniard next 
day and, say, he was a sight! All the white scales was 
gone but they had been thicker in some places than in 


THE SIIyICA GEE PSEUDOMORPH 


II 


others, and where they had been thickest there was a 
kind of a pit on his face like a man who had small pox. 
He looked fierce, but the water had made him look like 
glass again. There was no snow white stuff on him 
at all. 

“They took him before a J. P. that day and he told 
them he was a Spanish nobleman who was willing to die 
for Spain. He said he had sunk many English ships and 
killed many English and that he was going to do it some 
more.” 

“Now, I don’t know what you think,” Euphemia said 
to me, “but I think that fellow had been thrown over¬ 
board from some ship and was petrified on the bottom 
of the sea and covered with sand. When you dug him 
up he just came to life again. He must have been a 
bird when he was alive, and so he just went on being a 
bird when he came back to life.” 

“Well, the Justice of the Peace thought he must be 
crazy so he sent him to the asylum. But he didn’t stay 
there long. He broke loose one night, made for the 
shore, killed two men who was sleepin in a small vessel, 
pulled up the anchor and put to sea and hasn’t been 
heard of since.” 


2 


Peep-Chick Mountain 


Over in that funny state called New Jersey there is a 
mountain called Peep-Chick Mountain, or something like 
that, and this is the story of how it got the name: 

There was once a band of robbers who lived in a cave 
on the side of this big mountain. They stole sheep and 
pigs and chickens from the farmers who lived in the 
valley. Once they had no bread, and the chief robber 
said: “Go and steal all the eggs you can find and we will 
trade them for bread at the store. So they all went out to 
steal eggs except one. He was a red-headed robber and 
he said: “I think I am for Direct Action. I don’t be¬ 
lieve in this roundabout business of stealing eggs and 
then trading them for bread. Besides I should like to 
have some pie and cake also.” So he went down to the 
road and hid in some bushes. 

Pretty soon a big automobile came whishing by. “Go 
along whisher!” said the robber, “I can’t eat you.” 
Then a truck came rumbling by. “Get along, rumble 
bumble,” said Red Head. Then along came a baker’s 
cart. “Hi! said Reddy, “Here’s the Staff of Life!” So 
saying, he pulled out his pistol and fired at the tire. 
There was a bang and rattle, just as if a pane of glass 
had fallen on the sidewalk, and the baker’s cart began to 
wabble and pound on the road. “Ho!” said the baker’s 


PEEP-CHICK MOUNTAIN 


13 


boy who was driving, “there goes a tire.” He got down 
and went around the car. Just then Reddy came rushing 
up. 

“Hands up for pie!” said he. 

The baker's boy was so frightened that he ran and 
jumped into the canal, swam across and hid behind some 
trees. The robber fired several shots after him but they 
only splashed the water and scared the boy. Then Reddy 
unfastened a bag which had been wrapped around him 
and shoved in pies, cakes, loaves of bread and doughnuts 
as fast as he could. When this was full he filled another 
bag. Then he tied the two together, flung them over his 
back and made off as fast as he could. 

Presently the watchman spied Red Head coming up the 
hill with his bags of pies, bread, cake and doughnuts. 
It was misty and he loomed through the fog like a donkey 
carrying sacks. 

“Hey, Jack!” called the watch, “Ohe, Ohe!” 

“Ohe yourself!” said Red Head fetching him a slap 
over the head. But he struck hard and lost his balance, 
fell and rolled down the hill. The other robbers rushed 
out and grabbed him, but soon discovered that it was Red 
Head and let him go. 

“I know what your eggs will look like,” said the chief. 

When they turned the bags inside out they found the 
pies, cake, doughnuts and bread all mashed together. 


14 


PEEP-CHICK MOUNTAIN 


There was blackberry pie making a red streak and lemon 
custard making a yellow streak, with doughnuts flattened 
out and loaves of bred between. The juice of the pies 
had been soaked up by the bread and cake. 

“Hey!” said the chief, “What have we here?” 

“That,” said Reddy, “is pie-cake-doughnut-bread.” 

“It looks it,” said the chief, “but I believe we can eat 
it.” 

So they sat down and ate some; and, sure enough, it 
was good. 

In the meantime the other robbers who had gone out 
had stolen all the eggs they could find and put them in 
another cave near by. There were 503 dozen in all. 
Now it happened that there was a hot spring in one 
corner of the cave where the eggs were stored and after 
they had lain there long enough they began to hatch out. 
One morning when the robbers came out of their cave 
they heard a great rustling and peeping all over the hill¬ 
side. There were 5798 peeps moving through the grass 
and among the trees and crying: “peep! peep!” 

“Goodness!” said the robber chief, “look at our eggs! 
they are hungry.” 

That night they stole a feed grinder from a farmer 
in the valley and several bags of corn. Three robbers 
shelled corn, three drove the mill, three fed the corn and 
three made mush of the meal and fed it to the peeps. 


PEEP-CHICK MOUNTAIN 


15 


The other robbers stole the com and carried it up the 
mountain. In about two weeks they were tired out. 
“We are not robbers any longer,” they said, “this is 
work!” so they all ran away. By this time the peeps had 
become chicks and begun to eat grasshoppers and crickets 
and were able to take some care of themselves; but the 
foxes, weasels, skunks and minks had a fine time eat¬ 
ing them as they scattered over the mountain side. Bye 
and bye the farmers caught them until there were no 
more left; but the mountain is called Peep-Chick, or 
something like that, to this day. 


Round Valley 


They called it Round Valley because it really was 
round, hemmed in by very high hills, except on the west; 
here there was an opening through the hills, down the 
middle of which flowed a mill stream which drained the 
valley. Part way down the gap between the hills was a 
mill dam; and a short distance below the dam was the 
mill. The miller was a little Gnome who lived in the 
mill with his wife and daughter. The mother had once 
been beautiful, but hard work had made her old before 
her time. Her face was wrinkled; there were crows 
feet in the corners of her eyes; her steps were slow and 
feeble and her hair was growing gray. 

The daughter was a very beautiful and charming girl ; 
she was happy-hearted. She moved around quickly, 
helping her mother wash the dishes, sweep the floor, 
put wood on the fire, take up the ashes, milk the cow 
and feed the pigs and chickens. As she did these things 
she often smiled, and anyone who took the trouble to 
watch her could easily see that she had happy thoughts. 

There were many Little People living in this valley. 
You seldom saw them but often heard them. In one 
place below the mill the water fell over some rocks, and 
here, if you listened, you could hear some of them say¬ 
ing: “Urgle, urgle, urgle,” just as plain! 


ROUND VALDEY 


17 


Some lived in the branches of the pines and cooed: 
“Whoo, whoo, whoo,” and others called from the dry 
grass: z-z-z.” Everywhere their voices could be heard, 
but very soft and low—for they were Little People. 

Every day the Gnome worked in the mill—pouring 
grain into the hopper, tying up the bags of flour and 
writing in a big book in one corner of the mill. His 
clothes were always full of flour, and though he banged 
them with his hands and shook himself before going into 
the house, he was always gray or white. He was always 
busy, and seldom came into the house except for meals; 
but he appeared to be interested in his work and quite 
cheerful. 

One evening the sky became dark earlier than usual, 
and a mist fell over the valley; then the wind rose and 
the rain began to fall. It was a dismal night out of 
doors, but within the miller’s house it was bright and 
cheerful. The window panes shone in the light from 
the bright fire burning in the fireplace; the curtains over 
the windows drooped gracefully and were clean and 
white; there was a bookshelf filled with new books with 
golden titles and a shelf filled with flowers in pots in one 
of the windows. The room was clean and dry and warm 
as the miller and his wife and daughter sat down to their 
evening meal. 


i8 


ROUND VALLEY 


As they sat eating and talking there came a knock at 
the door and the daughter went to open it. A dark-eyed 
Stranger was standing on the threshold. “Come in 
quickly,” said the girl, “the wind is driving the dead 
leaves and the rain into the house. You are very wel¬ 
come ; come and share our meal!” 

The Stranger muttered his thanks and drew a chair 
to the fire. The mother went upstairs and presently came 
down again. “You are very wet,” said she. “I have 
laid out a suit of my husband’s in the room above. Go 
up and put it on! It will keep you warm and dry until 
your own is ready.” So saying she opened the door of 
the stairway and stood aside to allow the Stranger to 
pass. 

In a short time he came down and ate a hearty meal; 
but his face was far from cheerful. He appeared to 
be gloomy and glum; he said little and looked at no one. 
“He is tired,” said the mother to her husband, “take him 
up to the guest room!” 

In the morning the visitor appeared to be more cheer¬ 
ful than before. He was still gloomy and glum, however, 
as he ate his breakfast. He had come down late and the 
miller had gone to his work in the mill. The mother 
was in the kitchen, and the daughter sang as she waited 
on him, poured water on the flowers and drew back the 
curtains to let more light into the room. 


ROUND VALLEY 


19 


“Why are you sad?” said she, “see what a beautiful 
morning! The fleecy clouds are sailing over the hills; 
the mill stream is shouting for joy and the birds are sing¬ 
ing.” 

“Why should I be happy?” said he, “My wife and 
child are dead; I am not well and I have lost my money. 
Why should I rejoice?” So saying he looked gloomier 
and glummer than before. 

“Oh, you poor man,” said the girl, “I am so sorry.” 
So saying she brought in another plateful of hot cakes 
and put a jugful of maple syrup on the table; but still 
she kept on singing, for her heart was filled with joy. 

“It is very pleasant here,” said the Stranger. “If you 
do not mind I will stay a few days. I have enough 
money left to pay my board.” 

“You must settle that with my mother,” said the girl. 
“It is rather lonesome here sometimes, but you will be 
very welcome to stay as long as you like.” So saying she 
ran off to tell her mother. “Oh, mother!” said she, “I 
think it will be splendid to have him here; he is so sad; 
and he has lost his wife and child and his money; and 
his health is poor, too. I am so sorry for him.” 

“That is too bad,” said her mother, “We must be good 
to him and perhaps he will become more cheerful.” 

At first the Stranger wandered up and down the 
stream, hunting in the woods or fishing in the brook. 


20 


ROUND VADIyEjY 


Presently he tired of this and began to help the miller. 
Very soon he spent most of his time in the mill. In the 
evening he and the daughter would sometimes take a 
walk through the woods or over the hills. As he worked 
in the mill and grew tired and hungry, and slept in the 
clean, sweet country air, lulled by the voices of the Little 
People, he grew stronger and happier; the frown left his 
brow; he began to smile, and presently to hum a tune. 

One day the miller did not feel very well, and he went 
to lie down on his bed, leaving the mill in charge of the 
Stranger. A few days later this happened again. Pres¬ 
ently the Gnome laid down every day, and then he be¬ 
came so weak that he must stay in bed all day, while the 
Stranger took care of the mill alone. They sent for the 
Doctor who said he must stay in bed until he got better. 
But he got no better; he grew worse each day. One day 
he called the Stranger to him and said: “I feel very 
sick, and I believe I shall soon be going to a far country; 
will you take care of my wife and daughter when I am 
gone?” “Yes,” said the Stranger, “I will do all I can. 
You have all been good to me and I will do my best to 
return your kindness.” 

Then the old miller turned his face to the wall and 
died. And they buried him beneath the whispering pines. 
And the daughter said: “Oh, what shall I do? What 


ROUND VALLEY 


21 


shall I do?” “Let me help you bear it,” said he. Then 
she looked at him and smiled through her tears. 

After the miller died the mother was very lonely, and 
she often said that she would like to go to him. Pres¬ 
ently she, too, sickened. Every day she grew worse, and 
finally she died and was laid to rest beneath the spreading 
pines beside her man. 

After the funeral they sat before the fireplace. She 
was crying and his eyes were wet. “What can I do?” 
said she, “I have no one to love me and care for me.” 
“Yes you have,” said he, “I promised your father I would 
take care of you, and I love you very much. It will not 
be hard work for me to love you and care for you.” 

“Oh,” said she, “I am so glad you love me, I have 
loved you for a long time.” Then she kissed him, shyly. 

In a few days they were married. She cared for the 
house and he ran the mill. She is a good housewife and 
sings as she works and he is a good miller and sings as 
he runs the mill. They often kiss. I have noticed that 
when he kisses her he grows younger but as she kisses 
him she grows older. They grow happier every day. 


Mont L’Hery 

To Angelo Catto, Archbishop of Vienna, from Philip 
de Comines, Lord of Argenton:— 

In the Memoirs which I have written, my good Lord 
Archbishop, at your desire, I have spoken of an occur¬ 
rence of little importance, it may appear, and which was 
of small note among the great and mighty events which 
took place then and thereafter. None the less, though 
I have there written but a few words, (as thinking the 
relation of my own small affairs of little value) matters 
of great import to me and mine transpired which I shall 
here set forth, that you may, if you see fit, relate them to 
my dear daughter, Joan, when I am no more. 

In these Memoirs I have related that after the battle 
of Mont l’Hery the horse I bestrode was old and tired, 
which thrusting by accident his head into a bucket of 
wine, drank it and was thereby become lustier and more 
serviceable than he was before. I have also there set 
down that on the third day after the battle we took up 
our quarters in the village of Mont l’Hery and that the 
inhabitants were in such consternation at our approach 
that they fled, some into the church steeple, and some 
into the castle, which held out against us and was not 
taken. 

I have not set down the events of the first and second 
days after the battle because, as you shall see, I could 
not know much of them, being away on my own affairs. 


MONT i/HERY 


23 


After I had mounted this old, tired horse which I had 
ridden for several days, I laid the reins upon his neck 
as was my wont. Straightway he began to gallop, and 
when I sought to rein him in I found the bit between 
his teeth, and he on a mad run. We burst through the 
ranks of the men-at-arms, whereat I suffered not a little, 
being without armour at the time, and galloped hard 
into the village. As we turned at the church my old 
horse stumbled and fell and I was thrown violently into 
a meadow at one side of the way. 

Of what happened next I know only as it was related 
to me thereafter. For a long time, it appeared, my wits 
were wandering. Then I opened my eyes to look into 
the eyes of a young maid bending over me anxiously. 
She smiled and said: “I am glad, good sir. You were 
as one dead. It was an ugly fall.” 

“Where am I?” I asked. 

“You are in the house of my aunt’s nurse,” she re¬ 
plied. “She lies sick in the room above. I had come to 
visit her and saw you fall. I fear some of the King’s 
men saw you also and will do you a mischief.” With that 
there came a knockiing at the door and hoarse voices 
shouting: “Open in the King’s name!” 

She opened the door and I heard loud voices talking. 
Three archers were there, sent, they said, to bring me to 


24 


MONT i/HERY 


the Castle, but the maid denied them. She averred I was 
in great pain and unfit to be moved. There was much 
said that I did not fully hear (my wits not yet being 
fully returned), but presently she closed the door and 
came back. 

“I have staved them off for awhile,” she said, “but you 
must get back your wits as soon as may be, for they will 
come again/’ But I was in a maze at the beauty of her 
and said no word. She seemed like an angel to my 
sleepy eyes; for by now I felt dead tired and of a mind 
to sleep. This she saw and said: “Sleep, fair Sir! I 
will fend them from you.” At which I dropped off to 
sleep to dream of yellow-haired angels singing; and when 
I awoke, of a truth she was singing in the chamber above. 
In a few minutes she returned quietly and, seeing I was 
awake, said: “I have now two patients, fair Sir, I pray 
you tell me how you do?” 

“I am stronger,” I replied “but my arm pains me, and 
methinks a bone may perchance be broken.” 

“Not so,” said she, “but it is much bruised.” 

Again there was a knocking at the door, and when she 
opened a rough voice enquiring for me. 

“He has been sleeping and is better, but he has been 
much bruised and must stay the night.” 

“Nay, Nay!” said the archer, that must not be. I am 
bidden to bring him straight to the Castle.” 


MONT i/HERY 


25 


“He is my patient,” she replied, “and I tell thee I will 
not have him moved, Count or no Count.” 

“You must even have your way, Lady,” said he, “But I 
see a heavy reckoning to be paid if he come not soon.” 

“I will answer,” said she. 

When she returned: “I am beholden to you, Lady,” 
I said, “for your too great kindness. But I must not 
lead you into danger. That would be a poor return. Let 
me be led to the Count.” 

“How say you ?” she replied, “would you put your head 
in the noose ? I tell you the Count is bitterly angry with 
the Count de Charolois and will hang all his men.” 

“I care not,” said I, “I will not see you led into danger 
through my fault;” so saying, I sought to rise but fell 
back almost fainting. 

“See,” said she, “was I not right? You are unfit to 
go, and I will not have you go until you are fit!” Here 
her eyes flashed and she stamped her little foot fiercely. 

I slept but poorly that night and a fierce fever con¬ 
sumed me. In the morning she was much distressed and 
vowed again I should not be moved. Shortly there came 
another knock and a voice saying: 

“You little vixen! What matter if he die of a fever 
or be hanged?” 

“Hanged he may be,” she replied, and you will, but he 
must come to his trial well. And you do force him to it 


26 


MONT i/HERY 


I shall have your own head sooner or later, and that I 
vow!” 

“I warn you the King shall hear of this!” he said. 

“Let him,” she said, “and let him do his worst. I have 
cared for many wounded, and I have yet to ask whether 
they be rich or poor, or of high or low degree.” 

’Tis said the Count was in awe of his Countess and of 
her niece, my nurse. However this may be I know not. 
I do know that I was not more disturbed that day. 

On the morrow I was still feverish having passed but 
a poor night. In the morning she visited me again, say¬ 
ing: “Fair Sir, I see but one way by which I may save 
you from that murderer at the Castle. He is my uncle, 
and were you but husband of mine he dare not touch 
you. Have you a mind to wed ?” 

Verily, this I had not thought of, but the thought left 
me warm and not cold. And yet I must hesitate for her 
sake. I dare not lest she regret. So I said: 

“Truly, my Lady, the honor you speak of is far beyond 
my just deserts. Did I think you truly willing I should 
hurry on the match. But should you regret, nothing 
would be left for me but death. Let me therefore die 
the death at the hand of this dread Count rather than 
you should grant so great a boon and then repent.” 

“Say no more,” said she. “I have said you shall not 
be harmed, and by God’s word no harm shall befall you.” 


MONT i/HERY 


27 


So saying, without more ado, she sent for the priest who 
said mass and married us. 

Great was the wrath of the Count, her uncle. But 
what was done could not be undone. When he was gone 
she turned her face to me in shame. “What must you 
think of me?” she said. 

“If you will but trust me,” said I, “you will see that 
I think well of you. Before that you thus sacrificed your 
future for me I thought you an angel. My life shall be 
devoted to winning and keeping your love.” 

“How do you know I do not love you now?” said she 
—and fled. 

When our army came up and I was well again she had 
disappeared. I saw her no more for months, being de¬ 
tained from pursuing her by the war which came to an 
end but slowly. After that I had served King Louis at 
Peronne and had been taken into his service I heard 
much of her, but do what I would, could never come near 
her. At last, despairing, I went to the King and con¬ 
fessed my plight and sought his Majesty's assistance. 
“What would you?” said the King. 

“Do but let me see her, your Majesty,” said I, “that I 
may at least have speech of her.” 

“That I will do right gladly,” said he. 

About a week thereafter I was sent for to the Royal 
Cabinet and entering found the King with my wife. 


3 


28 


MONT i/HERY 


“Did I not promise to bring you together?” said the 
King. “Take now thy wife, de Comines and teach her 
her duty. You may withdraw!” 

I offered my hand to my Lady and we withdrew to an 
antechamber. Here she would fain have left me, but I 
said: “Lady I am your humble slave. Will you not 
listen to me?” 

“Nay,” said she, “I have said and done unmaidenly 
things and I am ashamed. Let me withdraw.” 

“Not so,” said I, “your acts were acts only of pity 
which I would fain turn into acts of love if you will only 
listen.” 

“Men speak well of you,” said she, “they tell me you 
are kind of heart and merciful and will spare my shame. 
But'I ask not for pity. I will not be companion to a man 
who does not love me without pity, that I may be trium¬ 
phant and without shame.” 

“That you may well be,” said I, “if you will but listen.” 

“It is not ears but eyes shall convince me,” said she. 

“Set me any task,” said I. 

“Nay,” she replied, “let me but see you. Do not pur¬ 
sue me. Let me see you in your daily work. I am to be 
Lady in Waiting to the Queen, and I may see you thus.” 

“You are harsh,” said I, “What have I done to be 
treated so unkindly ?” 


MONT i/HERY 


29 


“I will not listen,” said she, stopping her ears with her 
fingers and running away. 

For weeks thereafter I was condemned to see her daily 
but scarcely to speak to her. The King and Queen 
sought to throw us together but failed because she would 
not. At last I despaired. I went to the King and asked 
that I might be allowed to depart to my estate in Flanders 
so that I need no longer be on the rack. To this the 
King replied: “Do but let me speak to her again!” to 
which I gave consent. 

The next day I was sent for again to the King’s 
Cabinet, and entering found her again. “Why will you 
not put an end to this severity?” said the King, turning 
to her. “The poor fool pines daily. He loses flesh. He 
sulks. He is as one distraught. Mend him or break him, 
but torture him no longer.” 

“He is my own husband,” said she, her eyes flashing 
defiance. 

“Surely,” said the King, “treat him therefore as a man 
and not as a dog. Now leave me. I am weary of your 
quarrel.” 

Again we departed; as we reached the anteroom she 
whispered: “May I not do as I please with you ?” 

“You may indeed,” said I, but trample no longer upon 
my heart, I beseech you.” 


30 


MONT i/HERY 


“Thou art but a poor fool,” said she, “why not make 
me be good since I have loved thee from the first? Do 
I not love thy eyes and thy curly hair and thy straight 
back and even thy coat and hat. Surely I love thee, thou 
blind goose!”—and fled again. But this time I was too 
quick. I caught her and I have held her ever since, and 
with her good will as she declares and I believe. She 
has been my willing slave and I hers. Hath any man 
ever had a more devoted mate? Did she not visit me 
each day I spent in the iron cage at L,oches? In rain, in 
fog, in sleet, in sunshine; still she came, and she is mine 
and I am hers, forever. 


Death Valley 

Away out in California, near the Nevada line, lies a 
lonely valley. No one lives in this valley very long; it is 
a very lonesome place. In the winter the thermometer 
goes down below freezing point at night and rises to 
eighty degrees during the day. This is the pleasant time 
of year. In the spring and fall violent wind storms sweep 
over the desert, for it is a desert—the Mohave Desert— 
and in the summer the hot wind blows, drying up every 
drop of moisture and baking the country as if it had 
been placed in a baker’s oven. The few who must stay 
there get a leather-like skin from the heated wind and 
the glaring sun, with never a cloud to hide its pitiless 
rays. Sagebrush and greasewood are found here and 
there, and in the infrequent river bottoms a few willows 
are seen. Fissure springs, from deep faults in the earth’s 
crust let out small streams of water from sources far 
remote; sometimes fit to drink; sometimes loaded with 
salts in solution and sometimes hot. Such a spring is 
that which gives rise to Willow Creek which rises among 
the niter hills of the Great Basin and empties into the 
Amargosa River a short distance below its source. Alas 
for the name! The Amargosa “River” turns out on ex¬ 
amination to be a stream scarce large enough to turn a 
mill. After a run of less than 25 miles it sinks into the 
sands to rise no more. Shortly below this place we find 


32 


DEATH VADEEY 


Saratoga Springs and “Lakes.” These “Lakes” are per¬ 
haps io feet in diameter. All along the banks of the 
Amargosa the water as it evaporates rapidly in this 
thirsty land leaves a white crust of salt, soda and borax. 
In many places, scattered over the desert, deposits of 
mixed salts have been left by evaporated water which 
glisten in the sun from a distance. As the weary traveler 
walks through them the alkali rises in fine white clouds 
burning throat and nostril and biting the skin into sores. 

Over this desert roams the dismal coyote—always 
hungry, an ishmaelite. Kangaroo rats swarm in rocky 
spots; the side-winder threads his snaky way; and lizards 
and tarantulas scuttle to their holes to escape the traveler. 

In 1849 the Bennett family wandered into this valley 
and perished, giving to the valley its name. All along the 
wagon tracks—for there are no roads—bottles, tin cans 
and the skeletons of abandoned animals mark the prog¬ 
ress of civilization and the survival of the fittest. It is 
a weary land; over 400 feet below sea level; bounded 
by the black rocks of the Funeral Range on the north¬ 
east, the Kingston Range on the north, the Shadow 
Mountains on the southeast, the Avawatz Mountains on 
the south and the Telescope Range on the west. These 
mountains rise in some places to a height of 10,000 feet. 
The springs are far apart, from 30 to 90 miles, often with 
a very small flow and hard to find. At Cave Wells, for 


DEATH VADDEY 


33 


example, the traveler in search of water goes into a hole 
in the side of a cliff and descends a few steps to the 
margin of a shallow pool with no apparent overflow. 


“When does your uncle come for you, Jack?” said 
her friend. 

“To-morrow morning,” Jack replied. 

Next morning her friend was getting breakfast when 
a knock sounded on the door. When the door was 
opened, a wiry, pale-faced man stood in front of her. 

“Where is Jack's kid?” he enquired. 

“Upstairs in bed,” was the reply. 

Without a word he brushed by her, mounted the stairs, 
opened the door, bent over the half-awakened girl, put 
his arms around her and kissed her. 

“Is your name Jack, too?” he enquired. “You are a 
mighty nice-looking boy and I will love you and look 
after you for his sake. Now I must go. We will leave 
for the west at io to-morrow morning. I am ordered to 
the desert to spend the winter there in the out of doors 
for the sake of my health. Get yourself a corduroy 
suit with high-laced boots. Here is some money. I will 
be here for you at nine-thirty. Good bye till then!” So 
saying, he turned, rushed down the stairs and out of the 
house. 



34 


DEATH VAIXEY 


“Did you ever see such a whirlwind?” said Jacque¬ 
line. “He thinks I am a boy, and he will be disappointed 
and not let me go. What shall I do ?” 

“Go as a boy,” said her friend. “You are slim and can 
easily pass as a boy. I will help you get ready. Come 
along!” 

Next morning when Uncle appeared Jack was ready, 
dressed in corduroy knickers, stout, high-laced shoes, 
short, thick corduroy coat and felt hat. 

“Well, come along!” said Uncle, “We have just time 
to make the train.” 

At Salt Take City they outfitted for the desert. Five 
burros were bought, two for riding and three for pack¬ 
ing. Jack's burro was called Jenny. Jenny was a canny 
animal. She grunted at every step. Her progress might 
in some measure be likened to that of a drove of pigs, 
except that her grunts lacked the solidity and conviction 
which characterize the grunt of the real porker. Mexico 
is the real land of the burro. Here they are used to such 
an extent as freighters as to threaten the existence of 
the railroads. The Mexican will load his burros to their 
full capacity and at the stopping places let them graze. 
No food is provided except what they can pick up. If 
there should be no food and the animal starves he buys 
another since this is the cheapest plan. 


DEATH VADDEY 


35 


They carried a light rifle and two Colt’s revolvers, or 
“Guns” as they are called in the west. There was a tent, 
two blankets, a bucket, a frying pan, two large canteens, 
a spade, pick, axe, plenty of coffee and tea, canned baked 
beans, hard bread, bacon, butter and lard, some flour and 
feed for the burros. 

Neither one could bake or shoot but Uncle remarked 
that there would be time enough to learn and plenty of 
teachers. Notwithstanding his quick and sometimes 
almost rough manner, Jack soon discovered that Uncle 
was growing fond of her and was really very kind. At 
first she was very tired as night drew near after a hard 
day’s riding over the rough trails. They went slowly of 
necessity, for the burro is not a fast goer and dislikes 
hurry to an extreme. As the days went by she found 
her strength growing. He, too, appeared to benefit. 
They ate plain food, drank nothing but water, and 
coffee or tea, and retired early and slept soundly. Oc¬ 
casionally they stopped at a settlement, ate a square meal, 
renewed supplies, had a bath and made ready for another 
trip. 

In this way the winter passed rapidly. Jack learned 
to shoot, and, profiting from the directions of a good- 
natured miner, after several failures, they learned to 
make fair bread. 


36 


DEATH VALDEY 


Jack’s greatest trouble was her cowardice, because she 
felt sure her Uncle would detest in a boy what he might 
condone knowing her to be a girl. She made desperate 
efforts and finally succeeded in controlling her fears 
moderately well. The dislike she had for shooting was 
never overcome. 

Most of all she enjoyed the evenings by the camp fire 
when the exertions of the day had not been so great as 
to compel early hours. Here she looked into his heart 
and found it clean and good. 

There were plenty of indications that all the men one 
might meet were not of his kind. Bottles innumerable 
left along the way testified to the fact that though the 
desert might be dry the travelers were not. 

They traveled down the post road from Milford to 
Delmar and from there struck across country, intending 
to cross the Hiko, Paranaga and Belted Ranges and 
strike the Amargosa Desert to the south. These ranges 
cover a very rough and broken country, and progress 
was slow and difficult. Several times they were lost, 
and only the compass finally enabled them to escape from 
the mountain tangle. The greatest difficulty was in the 
supply of water for the burros. Their own supply could 
easily be carried. Several times the burros were saved 
from death by the finding of one or two barrel cactus 


DEATH VAEEEY 


37 


which were cut up and fed to them as both food and 
drink. 

With all his good nature Uncle made her toe the mark. 
He did not believe in spoiling boys. They were gen¬ 
erally lazy and he was determined Jack should do her full 
share of the work, but he did not always remember this. 
Being naturally lazy she resented being driven. She 
much preferred to lie around and read, or to lie abed and 
see him get breakfast, but he usually routed her out. He 
was anxious that she should grow strong and made her 
work in order that she might do so but uncomplainingly 
and as a matter of course he shouldered the heaviest part 
of the load. It may be imagined, therefore, that her 
regard for Uncle grew greater day by day. There was 
bread to make and he made it; the water grew short and 
he went without; the burros strayed and he went after 
them,—not grudgingly but without complaint. She had 
heard of him through her father’s talks many and many 
a time. She had learned of his goodness to her father; 
and here he was, unselfishly giving to her all he could 
give, freely and as a matter of course. Such conduct 
makes a friend of any generous-minded soul. It slowly 
converted her regard into devotion. She began to look 
for opportunities to serve him. To do anything for him 
became a joy. 


38 


DEATH VALDEY 


They were nearing the Amargosa and were sitting at 
the camp fire one evening when he said: “Jack, you are 
the very nicest boy I ever knew. I thought your father 
was the finest man on earth but I have lost him forever. 
I have found you instead. I am selfish and I would like 
to have you both; but, oh, my dear boy! I am so glad 
to have found you.” Jack said nothing but she turned 
her face to conceal the tears. 

They had been many days on the road. That after¬ 
noon they crossed the Funeral Range into Death Valley. 
The rocks of this range are black, rough, crumbly and 
forbidding. It is a bad climbing ground for the rocks are 
rotten and afford very insecure support. As they were 
slowly and painfully groping their way down into the 
valley a rock upon which he was standing gave way and 
he came sliding down in an avalanche of stones and dirt. 
She saw at a glance that he was headed for a precipice 
and without hesitating a second threw herself in the way. 
He was stopped but she slid many feet, turning over 
and over and landed against another rock, just on the 
edge of the precipice, covered with stones and dirt. 
Hastily he tore the spade from the pack, rushed down 
and uncovered her. Her coat was torn and her shirt in 
rags. She was unconscious as he laid her on the ground 
and cleaned the dirt from hands and face and gave her 


DEATH VALLEY 


39 


water to drink. Slowly she came out of the daze to find 
him anxiously bending over her. 

“Were you hurt?” said she. 

“No,” he replied, “see whether any of your bones are 
broken.” 

They camped at Saratoga Springs and from there 
traveled by easy stages to Daggett and thence to Los 
Angeles. All the way he was quiet, and she viewed him 
with apprehension. On the way east he sat beside her in 
the Pullman. 

“Why did you not tell me you were a woman?” said 
he. 

“I was afraid you would not take me, and I wanted to 

_ » 

go- 

“Well, it's too bad. I suppose now I must send you 
off to live with some-one else.” 

“Please don’t do that Uncle, I couldn’t bear it.” 

“What can I do then ? Get my sister to live with us ?” 

“Why yes, I suppose so. There are evil tongues. We 
must have some one.” 

His sister saw at once that she must play the role of 
huckleberry, and felt no great eagerness, but good- 
naturedly consented at last, firmly resolved to aid fate 
as much as possible so that she might go back to her own 
work. 


40 


DEATH VADDEY 


The play began with taking them to the theatre twice 
a week when sister was careful that Jack should sit next 
to brother. It continued by taking them to the country 
for the summer. Then they came back to the city again 
and missed the long walks and the pleasant companion¬ 
ship of the afternoons with nothing to do but exchange 
ideas. Then Uncle was called to Chicago on business 
for a week. This lengthened to two weeks. On return¬ 
ing he was so glad to see her that he kissed her and she 
impulsively returned the kiss and fled. How could a 
lonesome bachelor long resist such a combination of 
youth, beauty and love. There was a quiet wedding soon 
in which two hearts as well as two hands were united. 
They are not lovers, they are chums. He knows her 
thoughts and she his—they like each other. 


The Professor’s Story 


When I was in college one of my professors was a 
rather old man who was fond of telling about his 
travels. He told me about several trips he had taken. 
Some of these stories were very interesting, for he had 
gone into many places outside the tourist’s ordinary 
routes in order to study subjects in which he was par¬ 
ticularly interested. One of these trips was a visit to 
Rome. It was taken to attend a Congress of Chemists 
that assembled there in the Palace of Justice, or Palazzo 
de Giustitia as the Italians call it, located on the right 
bank of the Tiber near the Castel de St Angelo. His 
daughter, a beautiful girl of 21, accompanied him on the 
trip. They traveled on the Red Star Tine to Vlissingen, 
or Flushing, and up the Scheldt to Antwerp. 

The Congress was held in term time and he was 
limited to an absence of six weeks. There were two 
things which he particularly wished to see during this 




42 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


The second, and indeed the chief, object of his trip 
was to see the boracic acid soffioni at Lardrello. Here, 
it had been stated, jets of steam break forth from the 
earth in which small amounts of boracic acid are con¬ 
tained. This steam is carried into water, the boracic acid 
condensed with the steam, and the dilute solution thus 
obtained evaporated at a low temperature so as not to 
again volatilize it. Ammonia and sulfureted hydrogen 
are also present and considerable amounts of ammonium 
sulfate come into commerce from this source. These 
statements which were so varied in character as to cause 
some suspicion of exaggeration had aroused his curiosity, 
only to be completely satisfied by first hand information 
such as could be best obtained by a visit. 

From Antwerp they traveled to Brussels and from 
there to Rome by express, by way of Milan. They ex¬ 
pected to find it warm in Italy and left their heavy cloth¬ 
ing at Antwerp to await their return. They traveled 
through the Italian Alps, however, and suffered from the 
cold until Rome was reached. The journey from 
Brussels was begun in the evening and the second night 
was passed on the way from Milan to Rome. No seats 
together were to be had in the train from Milan. The 
daughter found a good seat in the compartment reserved 
for women where there was room also for her father 
and where he joined her. Whenever the conductor came 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


43 


around he remonstrated with the Professor; but as the 
latter was comfortably established this was met by a stare 
of no comprehension and the slipping of a lira into the 
conductor's hand which ended the argument until the 
next conductor came around when the process must be 
repeated. It was, however, uniformly successful. 

They approached Rome on the afternoon of a beauti¬ 
ful day in May. The whole surroundings were pictur¬ 
esque in the extreme. Black masses of masonry perched 
upon the hilltops, marking the sites of cities and towns, 
spoke eloquently of the reign of lawlessness only just 
passing away. They passed remains of tombs and 
caverns excavated in the hillsides—the marks of past 
civilizations. Everywhere, inside and outside of Rome, 
were foundations of buildings of the oldest masonry upon 
which a second structure had been erected, to be in 
turn destroyed and serve as the foundation of another 
erection, but still leaving visible remains. This was the 
country and these the places where Julius and Augustus 
Caesar lived and reigned, where Cicero spoke, where 
Cataline conspired, over which Hannibal roamed at will 
and where Fabian tactics were born. This was the land 
of the two Plinies, of Scipio the conqueror of Carthage, 
of Dante and Virgil; the sense of its antiquity grew and 
became overpowering. 


4 


44 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


They thought Italy the most beautiful country they 
had ever seen, “Why,” said the Professor, “As we 
traveled along I saw Narcissus Poeticus growing in the 
fields.” 

They stopped at the Royal Hotel and were visited by 
a valet who proposed that he should take care of them 
during their stay, to which they assented. They occupied 
three rooms, two bedrooms and a sitting room. In the 
sitting room of a morning breakfast was prepared by the 
valet while they were dressing. Then they sat down to 
breakfast, the valet waiting on them. Lunch was served 
downstairs, but dinner was the great event of hotel life. 
The guests were expected to be on time but if delayed 
they murmured a perfunctory excuse to the Major Domo 
which was smilingly accepted. The cooking here was 
elevated to the dignity of a fine art. It was marvelous 
and sometimes spectacular; as when at the conclusion of 
a meal an ice was placed in a dish and this in another 
larger dish held high upon the waiter’s outstretched hand, 
came in surrounded by blue flames, produced by pouring 
a little strong liquor into the outer vessel and setting 
fire to it. Upon another evening, after dinner, the guests 
were entertained with a very wonderful musical per¬ 
formance carried out by two men and a woman, the latter 
a very beautiful and accomplished Italian. It soon dawns 
upon the traveler that the modern Italian is descended 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


45 


from widely differing tribes, few of whom even look 
alike. Those we know best are swarthy, with black hair 
and wonderful eyes. There are many types beside this, 
and not a few light skins and blue eyes. 

The Congress was divided into sections. The presiding 
officer of each section had been selected because of his 
accomplishments as a linguist. This was necessary, be¬ 
cause there were four official languages in which papers 
might be presented and discussed: Italian, French, Ger¬ 
man and English. Two of the presiding officers were 
Germans: Georg Eunge, an accomplished technical 

chemist, who had been petted until his sense of propor¬ 
tion had been lost and he had become arrogant, and 
Wilhelm Ostwald, an equally accomplished and much 
more learned man and a great physical chemist, who was 
always polite and never was able to forget that he was a 
gentleman, first. But the sessions were found unin¬ 
teresting by comparison. Rome itself was so absorbing. 
They soon gave up the sessions entirely and devoted all 
their time to exploring the city. The first trip was to 
the Colosseum. Here they secured a guide—quite an 
old man, with an English all his own—who declared that: 
“He was a Roman citizen and p-r-r-r-oud of it." The 
Professor did not blame him in the least for this feeling. 
The old man proved to be a wonderful mine of informa¬ 
tion, most of it apparently accurate. He explained how 


46 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


the naval battles and other water scenes were managed, 
how the crowds were protected from the sun and from 
rains, how the various orders of Romans came in and 
reached their seats, and showed them the dens where 
wild beasts were kept. In answer to a question as to 
how the stones of the amphitheatre were joined with¬ 
out mortar, he took them to a place where a broken 
corner showed the method of joining by means of a short 
iron rod leaded into both stones. While they were talk¬ 
ing and the Professor was sketching he turned his head 
and found a policeman with sword and musket over¬ 
looking the performance, and especially the sketching, 
which it seemed was forbidden. But the guide set them 
at ease by remarking, pointing to the guide: “a friend of 
mine.” 

Another afternoon was devoted to the famous Forum 
Romanum, the scene of so many speeches and so many 
triumphs, and, especially remembered, the speech of 
Antony over Caesar’s dead body, reported by Shakes¬ 
peare, and repeated and varied in interpretation by so 
many of the masters of the tragic art. 

A third excursion was to the catacombs on the Appian 
Way. They were greeted here by a priestly-looking 
crowd of men one of whom enquired, pointing at them: 
“English ?” Answered in the affirmative they were 
motioned aside until enough English had accumulated 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


47 


to make up a party and the burly and not over clean 
guide led them around. The catacombs were disappoint¬ 
ing. The galleries are narrow, tortuous and unattractive. 
The remains of the art of that period though no doubt 
interesting as showing how art arose decayed and died, 
were not interesting to a modern. The conclusion was 
still more unattractive; for, on trying to find their con¬ 
veyance they discovered that it had disappeared and they 
must find their way back afoot. But it was evening; 
they were walking over the road so many conquerors 
had trodden; under the soft Roman twilight with the 
monuments of the great dead on both sides of the way; 
they were glad the driver had fled and left them to walk. 

One day was stolen for a swift excursion to Naples 
to see the museum. Here they stopped at Bertolini’s 
Hotel, which is situated on the side of a hill far above 
the city level, with a splendid view. This is reached by 
going through a doorway into a tunnel at the end of 
which is a lift. At the top a splendid hotel with this 
superb view of the bay and of Vesuvius. 

There was not time for a thorough examination of the 
treasures of the museum, but enough was seen to verify 
and enlarge some statements the Professor had made in 
a history he was then writing. The examples of metal 
working were very illuminating, showing as they did in 
some magnificent examples from Pompeii how little 


48 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


modem art excelled the art of that day except in speed 
and cheapness of working. 

Returning to Rome they discovered that the trip to 
Elba and to Rardrello had been abandoned because of a 
strike among the employes on the railway and steamboat; 
but the Professor declared that he had come to see Rar- 
drello and he would walk there if necessary. The next 
day they started for Pisa. Most of the route lay along 
the rocky coast of the Mediterranean through the most 
beautiful scenery in the world. The road runs along a 
shelf on the rocks with many tunnels. And the smoke! 
Ah, the smoke! Oh, the smoke! It gets into the eyes, 
the nose, the mouth, the ears, over the face and down the 
back. There is no avoiding it and no escape is possible. 
They arrived at Pisa about n P. M. and were met at 
the hotel by the proprietor with the question: “You 
would like a room?” “Yes, two rooms.” A shrug, and 
then: “I do not know what I shall do; we have but two 
rooms; one has three beds and the other four beds.” 

“The answer is easy,” said the Professor, “My daugh¬ 
ter will take the room with three beds, I will take the 
room with four beds.” When they were escorted to 
the rooms by the proprietor, the head porter, the maid 
and the facchini or porters and the doors were opened 
on the overflowing hospitality of seven beds for two 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


49 


travelers, a hearty laugh broke from every throat; a 
laugh is the same in all languages. 

Pisa is not very inspiring. The famous leaning tower 
leans because the foundations were poor, and the Bap- 
tisery is built of old tombstones and other stolen pieces 
of marble from which the thieves had not decency enough 
to chisel away the inscriptions. This thievery seems 
to have been a habit in the days which we see through 
the fogs of romance. 

The next day they turned back and retraced their 
steps for part of the way to Cecina where they trans¬ 
ferred to the road to Volterra. This town is situated on 
the frowning heights above the railway station, where a 
crowd of people; drivers, porters and others was as¬ 
sembled. The Professor accosted a hack driver in Eng¬ 
lish. To this there was no reply but a shrug of the 
shoulders. Then he tried German, French and Eatin in 
succession, all in vain. As they were about giving up 
in despair a voice from behind them, or from Heaven, 
said: “You would like to go to Eardrello? You are in¬ 
terested in boracic acid ?” 

“I have come all the way from America to see it,” said 
the Professor, “so you may judge whether I am in¬ 
terested.” Introductions followed and cards were ex¬ 
changed. Their friend was Prince Conti, son-in-law of 
Count Eardrello and the manager of the works. He 


50 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


told the driver what was required; gave him instructions 
where to take the travelers for the night and what they 
would like to eat and promised to meet them at the 
works next day. He too, it seemed, had been attending 
the Congress and was just returning. 

They traveled over a beautiful country covered with 
olive orchards, with pale yellowish-green foliage, to a 
country inn. Here everything was primitive and old- 
fashioned to the last degree, but clean. There were tile 
floors and the beds were of wrought iron in filagree,— 
beautiful pieces of workmanship. 

Next morning they reached the works in a desolate 
valley over which clouds of steam hovered. They were 
met and welcomed by the Prince who apologized for not 
being able to open the Palace for them as the family were 
away and the servants dispersed for the summer. 

The natural soffioni, they discovered, had failed to give 
a sufficient yield and were now supplemented by wells 
sunk as are petroleum wells in Pennsylvania. One of 
the new developments had been the striking of steam at 
a pressure of sixty pounds in some of the wells. These 
wells were capped and the steam led through a boiler con¬ 
taining a purifying agent to remove the sulfureted hydro¬ 
gen, after which it was used to run a steam engine which 
in turn actuated mills to grind the boracic acid and borax 
produced. After going through the works the Prince 


THE PROFESSOR'S STORY 


51 


was good enough to present the young lady with a 
bouquet of flowers and they said good-bye. The use of 
steam from Mother Earth to run a steam engine was, 
the Professor said, an entirely new idea not used, so far 
as he knew, anywhere else in the world, and suggested 
a possible method of keeping alive in those times we may 
possibly expect as our fuels disappear. It may then be 
necessary to drive deep wells to tap the supply of heat 
now lying far below the surface in most places and only 
reaching through the crust in a few. 


My Friend Zahn 


I am a very ordinary person with some rather remark¬ 
able acquaintances. It is my purpose to give here some 
account of these men and women—for they are of both 
sexes—and incidentally to describe some of the remark¬ 
able discoveries they have made. 

It was my good fortune to become well acquainted 
with several of these personages—for they are remark¬ 
able enough to be so called—while I was a student in a 
mid-western college for both sexes. Being a man of 
sufficient means and a bachelor with a taste for scientific 
studies, I have had leisure to attend many scientific con¬ 
ventions ; and here I have been able to make the acquain¬ 
tance of many other persons of brain power and industry 
sufficient to lead them to eminence. I flatter myself that 
I have, by reason of an agreeable personality, obtained 
an unusual knowledge of the work they have accom¬ 
plished. I will admit that some of these men and women 
have a very limited supply of polished manners, and one 
or two are almost without any of the qualifications neces¬ 
sary in a member of polite society.—But this will de¬ 
velop as the story progresses. 

I first met Samuel Zahn as a fellow freshman. His 
was a most engaging personality, for he is kind, witty 
and brainy. He took the lead in the class from the first 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


53 


day in college and was the most popular member. Need¬ 
less to say he was at once chosen President of the class, 
and President he remains to this day. He is over six 
feet tall, with large limbs and a big head; since leaving 
college he has gained weight and improved in appear¬ 
ance. I visited him at his home in a large western city 
five years ago and we spent several days together, talk¬ 
ing far into the nights; and during this time he had much 
to say about various phases of his work in biology, of 
which he is an enthusiastic student. 

“Why is it Brown,” he enquired, “that all living be¬ 
ings must grow old and die? This is true of all plants 
and all animals. There must be some chemical reason 
for this universal fact. 

“Before following out my line of reasoning, Brown, 
perhaps I should first recall your attention to the method 
of scientific discovery. We are accustomed, as you are 
aware, when traveling into new ground to form first an 
hypothesis as an explanation of the facts known to us. 
Beginning with this hypothesis, we first reason out the 
consequences which must follow if the hypothesis should 
be the real explanation. We then proceed to test these 
consequences by experiment. We then reason out other 
necessary consequences of the hypothesis and proceed 
further with our tests. If the results of our tests con- 


54 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


firm the hypothesis it presently becomes a theory and in 
course of time a law. 

“I have formed a great many hypotheses to account for 
the ageing of plants and animals, but under the test of 
experiment these have all broken down one after another. 
Recently, however, it occurred to me that perhaps the 
ageing might be due to the formation of resinous sub¬ 
stances in the tissues by the combination of two sub¬ 
stances one contained in the food the other in the tissues. 
You will remember that the insoluble resin, bakelite, is 
formed by the union of an aldehyde and a phenol 
under suitable temperature conditions. If, now, the alde¬ 
hyde like body formed part of the tissue, and the phenol 
were contained in the food and passed unchanged into 
the circulation, we should have slow combination and 
the formation of hard material—perhaps also material 
in the form of fibers and therefore flexible—within the 
tissues, which would cause them to harden and stiffen, 
inducing the other changes we ascribe to old age. 

“If now these phenol bodies are contained in the plant 
and animal juices constituting our foods they must be 
contained in those that are short lived in largest amount, 
and it should be possible to bring on old age much more 
rapidly by feeding short lived plants. For this purpose 
I used first oat straw, but I found this did not produce 
the desired effect. On further consideration it seemed 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


55 


unlikely that it should: for the ripe, and therefore dead, 
straw would contain only the resin and neither aldehyde 
nor phenol. I therefore used green oat straw and found 
that this brought on old age rapidly when fed to dairy 
cows with no other food. I then tried various additions 
to the green oat straw with the object of finding some 
substance capable of uniting with and destroying the 
phenol. This I have at last succeeded in finding; and 
I am now in possession of a reagent which will so far 
destroy any of these phenols contained in food, that old 
age is indefinitely arrested. This as you will see places a 
dreadful responsibility in my hands. This is not the 
Secret of Perpetual Youth exactly, for I cannot so far 
restore youth to the aged—I can only arrest decay. By 
feeding this antidote to a baby it may remain a baby for¬ 
ever. Or it may be allowed to reach any desired age and 
then forced to cease developing indefinitely. I will con¬ 
fess to you that I feel dismayed by this heavy respon¬ 
sibility. What do you think I should do? What is my 
duty?” 

“This is such an extraordinary story, Zahn,” I re¬ 
plied, “that I think, in fairness, you should first give 
some proof that you are not in error in thinking your dis¬ 
covery a real one; and since -considerable time must 
necessarily pass before any satisfactory demonstration of 


56 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


this kind can be made perhaps we had better not further 
discuss the matter at present.” 

“Spoken with your usual clearheadedness,” he re¬ 
joined. “I must confess, however to a certain amount 
of disappointment in your lack of faith in accepting my 
conclusions.” 

To this I made no rejoinder, thinking that the less the 
subject was discussed the better. 

He then informed me that he had invited two friends 
to lunch with us. “I am much interested in them,” he 
said, “because I believe they are much interested in each 
other. They are very interesting people, and I want 
you to know them.” 

Shortly before one they arrived. The man was ap¬ 
proximately about fifty years of age and rather above the 
medium height; he was well-built and walked like a 
soldier. His hair was only slightly gray; his nose was 
straight and well-formed. There was about him a certain 
air of gentility, and his manner was pleasant and courte¬ 
ous. The lady was at least twenty years younger. She 
was the most beautiful creature I had ever met, and her 
manner was alert and full of charm. They came in to¬ 
gether, and there was no possibility of doubting their 
interest in each other. But they were both so genuinely 
interested in their host and in me that this mutual under¬ 
standing seemed pleasant to both of us. He was intro- 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


57 


duced as John Valient, a successful lawyer and she as 
Helen Henderson. 

At table we were waited on by Mrs. Frains, Sam’s 
housekeeper, a dear, motherly old lady with white hair, 
kind eyes and a fair complexion. Sam introduced her to 
us, and treated her as in every way an equal. Miss 
Henderson sat at his right, Valient at his left and I op¬ 
posite. 

During the meal Sam informed us that he had recently 
given some attention to nutrition and had come to the 
conclusion that condiments played a much more im¬ 
portant role than had hitherto been assigned to them. He 
had studied these therefore with some attention and had 
compounded one which he thought we would find very 
agreeable. He proceeded to extract a bottle from a 
near by closet; from a medicine dropper inserted through 
the cork he dropped a single drop upon our fish. 

“It is very strong,” he remarked, “and more than a 
single drop would be too much. If you wish I will give 
a bottle of it to each one of you provided you will 
promise to use a single drop at each meal until it is all 
used. According to my calculations this will take a 
little over nine years, for there are 500 cubic centimeters 
in the bottle and each cubic centimeter is equal to twenty 
drops.” 


58 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


After eating the fish, which was delicious, we readily- 
promised and received each a bottle. I may remark here 
that I became very fond of the relish, and now, after the 
lapse of five years, the bottle is nearly half full, thus 
showing how accurate were his calculations. 

“I wish,” said Miss Henderson to Zahn, “that you 
would tell Mr. Brown about your agricultural catalysts. 
I think this a very entertaining story.” 

“Why certainly,” he replied, “I shall be delighted.” 

“You must know, Brown,” he said, addressing me, 
“that there are a large number of chemical substances 
which are called catalysts. I can best illustrate what this 
means by giving two examples. If potassium chlorate be 
heated it melts and begins to give off bubbles of oxygen 
gas. If, however, we first pulverize the chlorate and 
add to it a mere pinch of very finely powdered man¬ 
ganese dioxid and mix the two very thoroughly and then 
heat the mixture, oxygen will again come off but at so 
low a temperature that the chlorate does not even melt, 
and much more rapidly. 

“In the manufacture of ‘Crisco’ and other lard sub¬ 
stitutes from liquid oils by pumping hydrogen through 
the oil in closed vessels, so long as only these two sub¬ 
stances are present no combination takes place and the 
pressure increases. But if a small amount of finely di- 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


59 


vided nickel be added combination at once begins, the 
melting point of the oil rises and the pressure falls. 

“We once supposed that many chemical substances 
found in minute amount in the ashes of plants were not 
of importance, but it has lately been asserted that this is 
not true and that manganese in particular plays an im¬ 
portant part in plant economy, acting as a catalyst. I 
have verified this fact and have proceeded to examine the 
action of different manganese compounds in order to de¬ 
termine which is most active. The acetate functions well, 
the hydrosol better but colloidal manganese is by far 
the best. In any considerable amount this acts as a 
violent poison but in homeopathic doses it functions as a 
vigorous stimulant. Using this reagent as a hypodermic 
I have obtained astonishing results. I have one stalk of 
Indian com on my farm treated in this way which mea¬ 
sures forty feet in height and has seven ears, each over 
a foot long and perfectly set, with grains well on toward 
ripeness. Watermelons the size of hogsheads are readily 
produced and we have canteloupes, cucumbers and toma¬ 
toes as large as nail kegs. I have used the kohl rabi 
for several years as a source of winter forage for my 
cattle, slicing them before feeding. Treated in this way 
heads as large as barrels are readily grown, as much as 
forty tons per acre being an ordinary yield. I have in 
consequence been able to quadruple the size of my herd 


5 


6o 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


without devoting more acreage to the growing of forage. 
I have not entirely succeeded in increasing the oat and 
wheat crop because of the difficulties in the way of suc¬ 
cessful wholesale hypodermic injection. I have made a 
somewhat promising beginning, however, by successfully 
inoculating chrysanthemum with the aid of the aphis 
which preys on them. You know that this aphis punc¬ 
tures the outer cuticle with his proboscis and drinks the 
sap. Acting on this knowledge I have first sprayed the 
aphis with a dilute colloidal manganese and dried them 
rapidly with a current of warm air. The colloid adheres 
to the outside of their beaks and gently stimulates. When 
the beak is inserted the plant at once is inoculated. The 
aphis is then destroyed by the application of whale oil 
soap or other appropriate insecticide and the plant de¬ 
velops to an enormous size producing blossoms as large 
as a lady’s summer straw hat. They are indeed marvel¬ 
ous. 

“I have also begun some experiments upon animals 
but the effect here seems to be even more poisonous. 
Another idea has, however, occurred to me which gives 
promise of a very great success. You know that caffein 
is a mild stimulant to the human race, and acting on this 
lead I have tried a number of stimulants, winding up 
with virulent poisons. One of these containing arsenic 
combined with strychnine, cocaine and selenium has been 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


6l 


injected into calves from my herd which are now, at six 
weeks, as large as their mothers. Unfortunately this 
growth has been accompanied by the development of a 
disagreeable odor which makes them unpleasant neigh¬ 
bors. I fear I shall be forced to find a substitute for the 
selenium in order to avoid this but I have no doubt of 
final success.” 

During this recital any conversation had become im¬ 
possible ; in fact we were reduced to a state of coma and 
walked from the table like well-trained somnambulists 
without uttering a word. 

In the evening I accompanied Zahn to a lecture he was 
to deliver before the Society of Facultative Anaerobists. 
It appeared that these people had associated themselves 
for the purpose of further studying those organisms 
which develop either in an atmosphere of oxygen or of 
one devoid of it. In the latter case they decompose some 
substance contained in the solution and assimilate the 
oxygen it contains. The lecture was to be delivered at 
the society headquarters over a grocery store. The en¬ 
trance was on a side street in the rear. There was a 
light over the entrance and the hall was gained by mount¬ 
ing a steep pair of stairs. We found the assembled an- 
aeobists busily at work under the chairmanship of a lanky 
individual in corduroy trousers. Upon our entrance the 
proceedings were at once suspended to allow the lecture 


62 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


to proceed. Zahn was escorted to the platform with 
much deference and began as follows: 

“Fellow Truthseekers:— It is with some hesitation 
that I venture to appear before you to make my small 
contribution to your proceedings. I am well aware of 
the labors of some members of this illustrious society, 
and feel considerable diffidence in appearing before you. 
I shall confine my remarks to two themes: The first will 
be a contribution to the technology of inoculation. I have 
had considerable experience of the difficulty and danger 
of inoculating savage animals, and the first part of my 
paper merely describes the technique which I have found 
successful in such cases. I have here an inconspicuous 
gun which enables us to effect inoculation at a distance 
and with ease and certainty. The projectile consists of 
a hollow needle with two sheet metal flanges surrounding 
it acting like a piston in the cylinder of the gun. The 
inoculating liquid is sucked into the needle by its capil¬ 
larity. On inserting a metal sphere filled with liquefied 
carbon dioxid into this cylinder and pressing this trigger, 
a needle penetrates the capsule, liberates the carbon 
dioxid, which instantly is converted into gas and drives 
the projectile from the gun. The needle has sufficient 
force to penetrate the skin until the first of the flanges is 
reached. This instantly stops it and the shock forces the 
liquid into the wound. The outside of the needle should 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


63 


first be coated with an antiseptic to prevent the entrance 
of skin bacteria. ,, 

This contribution was greeted with great applause and 
the gun was seized by a female with a black eye which 
she declared had been due to the hoof of a mule—for¬ 
tunately unshod. After the confusion had partly sub¬ 
sided the chairman rapped for order and Zahn pro¬ 
ceeded to read his second paper: 

“You are of course aware,” he began, “that during the 
world war the supply of glycerin became insufficient and 
that it was discovered that the addition of some sodium 
sulfite to a sugar solution which was seeded with the 
yeast plant altered the direction of the fermentation and 
caused the formation of large amounts of glycerin— 
sometimes as much as 30 per cent of the product. No 
careful study of the effect of this addition upon the yeast 
plant itself seems to have been made. I have now taken 
up this study and have reached some startling conclu¬ 
sions. Such organisms so produced seem to have lost 
many of their original characteristics. Ordinary sac- 
charomyces cerevisae, for example, grown under these 
abnormal conditions will no longer produce normal yeast 
fermentation. The progeny of the original cells break, 
and we have the same sort of variation that is ordinarily 
obtained in raising plants from seed. By varying the 
nature of the disturbing substance; that is by replacing 


6 4 


my Friend zahn 


the sodium sulfite by other reagents, I have succeeded in 
producing still other modifications which have interest¬ 
ing properties economically important. 

“On this slide, which we will now project by the lan¬ 
tern, we have a photograph of an organism capable of 
turning waste molasses into ethyl chloride which is much 
used as a local anaesthetic and may be used instead of 
ether. It is necessary to add sufficient salt to the solution 
to supply the chlorin and the sodium remains behind as 
sodium carbonate supplying that necessary product of the 
chemical industry at a price defying competition. 

“Here we have the photograph of another modified 
organism capable of absorbing carbon dioxid from mixed 
gases containing it and building up starch in sunlight 
much after the manner of chlorophyl in the plant. The 
synthetic starch so produced differs in no particular from 
that found in plants and is obtained in large amount 
very cheaply from the waste gases given off by our 
stoves and furnaces. The supply of such material is very 
large and the starchy food that in this way may become 
available destroys at once all possibility of future famine 
and all necessity of raising wheat, oats, barley, potatoes 
or other starchy foods. I hope before long to be able to 
announce the discovery of other forms able to produce 
albumen and other proteids directly from the atmospheric 


MY FRIEND ZAHN 


65 


nitrogen, so as to solve for all time the possibility of 
future starvation.” 

This paper was greeted by cheering and immense en¬ 
thusiasm. The chairman in proposing a vote of thanks 
said that the society had now amply justified the hopes 
of its founders and that this would long be marked as a 
red letter day in its history. 

I walked home with Zahn tired with so many wonders. 
The next morning I overslept and was late for my train 
so that there was no opportunity for any further con¬ 
versation. I have not seen my host since that time until 
last week. I then made a singular and most distressing 
discovery. 

I had noticed that most of my shirts were frayed at the 
wristbands. I needed some new shirts and proceeded to 
select them. Judge my surprise when I discovered that 
my old friend Zahn was waiting on me! I of course 
accosted him by name, only to be met by a blank stare 
a firm denial of acquaintance. He assured me that his 
name was Smith and that he knew no one by the name of 
Zahn. I asked for the proprietor of the store and told 
him my story only to be greeted by an incredulous stare. 
The proprietor assured me that Smith came to the store 
under that name with fine recommendations from previ¬ 
ous employers, and that they had no doubt whatever 


66 


my friend zahn 


that he was as represented. I can only suppose that 
Zahn had lost his mind through overstudy and with it 
his memory. I have noticed that neither I myself nor 
either of the other participants in that famous lunch, 
now five years ago, appears a day older, and I am dread¬ 
ing the exhaustion of my bottle and the slow onset of old 
age. 


Just Samuel Jones 


Samuel Jones was an energetic as well as a very care¬ 
ful young man. He had inherited a small sum of money 
from his father. It was his purpose to use so much of 
this as was necessary in completing his education; the re¬ 
mainder was to be carefully invested as a nest egg for 
the reserve he intended to create which he spoke and 
thought of as The Dam. The idea back of this name 
was that if the Dam were big enough and were full it 
would keep the mill going for some time should the 
springs run dry. 

Sam was careful in other ways also. He laid care¬ 
ful plans each morning so that no time need be wasted. 
If the day was cool he put on a heavy suit; if cloudy he 
wore rubbers and carried an umbrella. If the tempera¬ 
ture rose suddenly after such a beginning and the sun 
shone brightly, he had at least done his part and this con¬ 
soled him for the suffering he must endure. This dis¬ 
position subjected Sam to the ridicule of his unmarried 
sister, Tilly, who acted as his housekeeper. Tilly was of 
a very different build. No one ventured to call Tilly 
careful—she was conspicuously careless. She had a 
pretty foot and loved to buy new shoes, but she often 
dressed in a hurry, and her shoes, having been discarded 
in a hurry, were not readily matched. In consequence, 


68 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


she sometimes appeared at breakfast with a shoe upon 
the right foot and a slipper on the left. This impro¬ 
priety filled Sam with anguish. Perhaps this difference 
in disposition was one of the reasons for their affection, 
for they were very fond of each other and they led a 
very happy life. 

Sam had a poor opinion of college men. Part of this 
low rating was no doubt prejudice and part was due to 
the fact that he was not a college man himself. He saw 
very clearly, however, that many college men acquire 
only a fine polish. The process fails to get enough paint 
on the rough wood of the foundation to hide the coarse 
grain which shows through in all its crudity. He had 
also taken note of his own rather brusque manner, and 
laid it, correctly, to the lack of those opportunities which 
come to the college man unsought. Anxious to repair 
this defect he became precise and a trifle stilted. This 
Tilly was not slow to notice and criticize. Tilly loved 
college boys and their ways. She listened with attention 
to their songs and was up on all their pranks. Their 
escapades amused her and she forgave their faults. She 
knew them well for they lived in a college town. 

Back of all Sam’s spur to action was a love of chemis¬ 
try. He became enamoured of it in High School where 
Steele’s Fourteen Weeks was the text-book. Beginning 
by pouring vinegar on baking soda in his mother’s 


JUST SAMUEE JONES 


69 


kitchen, he had managed to study carefully a good many 
chemical substances so that his knowledge was much 
broader and deeper than that obtained by most college 
students. As the lumberman notices all the straight 
trees large enough for sawing so Sam tagged all objects 
with formulae. Water was H 2 0; vinegar C 2 H 4 0 2 ; 
Cream of tartar (CHOH COOH, CHOH COOK) ; and 
sugar C 12 H 22 0 11 . After the death of their mother Sam 
had fitted up a laboratory in the attic and hung out the 
shingle of an analytical chemist. The income obtained 
in this way being too small he conceived the idea of add¬ 
ing to it by the concoction of various specialties, and 
Jones' Talcum Powder, Jones’ Velvet Cream and Jones’ 
Tooth Paste made their appearance on the shelves of 
neighboring druggists and were spoken of in terms of 
praise by those who had used them. These had been 
supplemented by various perfumes which found favor 
with the weaker sex and became the foundations of a 
business which was steadily increasing. Into this scene 
of happiness and peaceful prosperity Fate dropped sev¬ 
eral bombs. 

Bomb the First 

Sam and Tilly loved the movies. They formed a back¬ 
ground of romance to their prosaic lives. They read, 
eagerly, all they could find in print about the stars of 


70 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


moviedom and were well acquainted with the features of 
the prominent actors. Twice a week they attended, 
rain or shine. As this involved long walks in bad weather 
they had, with the dawn of prosperity, invested in a Ford. 

It was a windy night in October. There was a threat 
of rain in the air as the sullen clouds drifted past over 
the moon. As they returned to the car, which had been 
left in a side street, a tiny muffled wail greeted them: 
“Gracious! it’s a cat/’ said Tilly. “Good Lord! it's a 
baby!” It was wrapped in an old, frayed, woolen 
blanket. They took it home—what else could they do ?— 
and Tilly unwrapped it in her warm room. It was clean 
and warm and dry, and its clothing, though of the 
plainest material and somewhat worn, was also clean. 
Tilly declared it was a darling. She sent Sam for a 
bottle and some of the best milk, fed the child and 
covered her warmly in a large arm chair which was 
pushed against the bed so that she might hear the little 
one move in the night. Tilly declared the little girl had 
aristocratic features. She fell violently in love with her 
and declared she would not give her up. Sam smiled and 
agreed. He seldom opposed Tilly, though he felt some¬ 
what doubtful of the propriety of keeping the baby. The 
little one grew apace. She soon became the central sun 
of the household about which Sam and Tilly revolved— 
two obedient satellites. 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


7 1 


The household duties soon became too great for Tilly, 
and Elizabeth Tillicum was sent for. Elizabeth was a 
New Jersey product, redolent of the hills that border the 
Delaware. Her hair was sandy—the color of New Jersey 
sand. Her eyes were blue—the color of the blue water 
of the Atlantic which rolls over the New Jersey sand 
beaches, though this water is often green; and her 
freckles were—just plain brown freckles. I am not say¬ 
ing Elizabeth was beautiful—she was not. She agreed 
with everyone; she was quite unable to contradict; indeed 
her acquiescence was almost slavish. In size she was 
opulent. It seemed doubtful when she sat down whether 
some portion of her anatomy might not spill over on the 
floor but this never actually happened. With all her 
disposition to conciliate she persisted in moving slowly, 
and all the alleged work that she performed was per¬ 
formed at a uniform slow speed. Some critics averred 
that she did not work—she lolloped. They said that when 
she did do work it was so poorly done that it must first 
be undone and then done over again. However this may 
be, Elizabeth steadfastly, slowly and pleasantly pushed 
her way through the world. But she was not a bomb, 
she was not even a torpedo. 

Very few people can be reformed by preaching at them, 
object lessons are more effective. Her own carelessness 
was well known to Tilly and made her secretly admire 


72 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


Sam’s precision and half despise Elizabeth’s sloppy work. 
The coming of the baby brought a change. Tilly read up 
on the care of babies in a volume entitled “The Feed¬ 
ing and Care of Children.” This learned work explained 
the overwhelming importance of cleanliness. It detailed 
the various minute bugs which lurk in the air, water 
and soil ready to seize and carry off the unsuspecting 
child. From a heedless maiden, Tilly was rapidly trans¬ 
formed into the veriest martinet, watching for the least 
speck of impurity to pounce upon and destroy it. Every¬ 
thing the baby ate was sterilized, and the bottles, spoons 
and plates scalded assiduously. Toward this campaign 
of cleanliness the baby herself manifested a cynical in¬ 
difference. She threw the bottle on the floor. She drew 
.her spoon through her hair, and after crawling through 
all the dirt attainable, rubbed her grimy hands over her 
half-cleared plate and then thrust the chubby paws down 
her throat. Such behaviour was anathema maranatha 
and filled Tilly with despair. 

Sam was at first far from being charmed by the dirt 
and disorder which the child insisted upon, but she soon 
vanquished him. Her velvet skin, lovely color and wide 
open smile would have melted a stone, and Sam soon 
became her slave. In return she manifested an ardent 
preference for his society; crowed when he came home, 
howled when he left, insisted on sitting in his lap, thrust 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


73 


her fingers into his eyes, nose and ears, pulled his hair 
and showed not the slightest regard for his privacy or 
the ordinary courtesies of life. Sam was reformed in 
spite of himself. For the sake of peace he put up with 
rumpled hair, moist and slimy kisses and greasy finger¬ 
prints on his coat. Such is the mollifying discipline 
babies hand around in humanizing their elders. 

The naming of the baby had been a dreadful ordeal, 
and nearly ended in a rupture between Sam and Tilly. 

“We do not know her name,” said Sam, “so we had 
better give her one which is merely descriptive; then 
when her real name is divulged there will be less tempta¬ 
tion to ignore it. I propose to call her Monday October 
Jones until we discover her real name. This is descrip¬ 
tive of the day of the week and the month she came to 
us.” 

“She shall have no such barbarous name,” said Tilly. 
“You may as well call her Man Friday at once. I will 
not have any such name. She is going to have a pretty 
name. Monday October Jones: the idea! I shall call 
her Arma: 

Arma virumque cano 
Trojae qui primus ab oris 

Don’t you remember that pretty verse Jimmy Case 
sings ?” 


74 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


Tilly’s words had an air of finality. She had been a 
bit uncertain herself until Sam put in an oar. There 
was another rhyme which sang through her conscious¬ 
ness making her undecided. It was: 

Gaudeamus igitur 

Juvenes dum sumus 

that she had heard the college boys sing. But on the 
whole she inclined toward Anna, for Gaudeamus did not 
sound like a female. So the baby was named Anna 
Virumque Jones. 

Arma was a romantic little soul. She thirsted for the 
unusual and wonderful. As she grew to girlhood she 
invested those dear to her with imaginary virtues. Tilly 
was a lovely and stately lady and Sam the personifica¬ 
tion of all that was noble and good. She was a beautiful 
girl, with curly brown hair and a clean mind. With her 
twelfth birthday began her affairs of the heart. Her 
first flame was a beautiful Italian boy who dwelt in an 
old house in the alley. This flame was quenched when 
she encountered him after he had consumed a larger 
ration of garlic than was usual. The next conflagration 
was started by the grocer’s boy, but this was quenched 
when she overheard him swear. This was followed by 
a passion for a young and rather dull divine who never 
dreamed of his conquest, so that it died of inanition. 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


75 


Bomb the Second 

The three were sitting in the living room one evening 
in June. Sam and Tilly were reading and Arma was 
getting out her lessons, when a resounding knock on the 
door was heard, and a great big, strong, jolly man burst 
in, shook hands with Sam and noisily proclaimed how 
glad he was to see “this darn old fraud” once more. 

Sam's face lighted with pleasure as he welcomed him 
and introduced him as “Billy Gesundheit, my old friend 
and comrade in Pittsburgh.” 

“My word, what a name!” thought Tilly, “But what a 
fine looking man. He seems too good to be true.” This 
was during her trip upstairs to inspect the guest room 
where he was to spend the night. 

Sam had lived two years in the smokehouse city as 
chemist to a young struggling steel plant. Before he 
left this puny infant industry had begun putting on the 
seven league boots of manhood. At this time Gesund¬ 
heit was a hearty young workman to whom Sam took a 
fancy. This was vigorously reciprocated; Sam was 
carried off to Billy’s home and introduced to his widowed 
mother who was a wonderful housekeeper. She became 
interested in Sam at once—for was he not a friend of 
her Billy?—sewed on his buttons, darned his socks, and 
wound up by taking complete possession. Sam soon 
6 


76 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


moved into their spare room and, as the homely phrase 
has it, “she ate him and slept him.” 

Billy informed them that he had risen in rank con¬ 
siderably since Sam’s departure and was now acting as 
manager of the works. He had come to New York on 
business and must soon leave for home; he expected to 
make frequent visits, however, and here he looked at 
Tilly, and he would not fail to visit them as often as pos¬ 
sible. He also informed them that to-morrow was a 
holiday for them; he was to take entire charge, manage 
all details and pay all expenses; all they need do was to 
enjoy themselves as much as possible. 

After breakfast next morning Billy produced a map of 
the city for each member of the party. “A taxicab is 
coming at eight,” he began, “to take us to the place where 
our excursion starts. I’m going to walk part of the way 
the rest of you may do so or ride, just as you please.” 

“Where are we going?” said Tilly. 

“We are going to circumnavigate the city,” said Billy. 
“I doubt whether you know your own town. Most people 
do not. If we first go around it, and then go through all 
the streets and alleys you will know it on the outside at 
least. After we get through we will quiz one another 
on the names of the streets and alleys and their location. 
It is good fun and has a use beside.” 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


77 


For about a mile the city line ran along the middle of a 
highway. It was not a well paved highway. There were 
stones, tin cans and piles of rubbish to be dodged. Then 
the line led through an orchard. Here Billy got out, in¬ 
viting the others to go with him, but only Tilly accepted 
the invitation. The others followed the road, agreeing 
to wait for the pedestrians at a point further along, while 
the foot passengers gracefully climbed the fence. They 
had not gone more than a few hundred feet among the 
trees, which were old and decayed, before they caught 
sight of a house ahead. Sitting on the back porch in a 
hickory rocking chair was an ancient lady, clad in calico, 
rocking gently to and fro while knitting a pair of socks. 
As the travelers drew near, she looked up and said: 

“I'm knitting these socks for my son. He don’t like 
wool next his skin, so I use cotton, but I have an awful 
time getting the right kind of thread. If the thread is 
too coarse, he says they look like gunny bags and if it 
is too fine the socks are not warm enough. He is very 
pertickler, my son is. Maybe you know him; his name is 
Winterbottom; first name Jeremiah, after his father. 
He’s well known in Wilmington. Don’t you know him ?” 

“No,” said Billy, sitting down on the edge of the porch 
and making ro6m for Tilly beside him, “I don’t know him 
but I hear he is a very fine man. I hope you will tell us 
more about him. What is his business ?” 


78 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


“Making flat irons. What’s yours?” 

“I make iron and steel.” 

“I don’t see then why you don’t know him. You got 
a nice lookin wife.” 

“Thank you, I think so too,” said Billy, while Tilly 
blushed. 

“Why did you let her think we were married?” said 
Tilly, after they had left the old lady behind. 

“Well I kinda wish we were, and I hoped she only had 
the news a little ahead of time.” 

“You are certainly a fast worker.” 

“Sure, I no sooner saw you than I picked you. I can 
always make up my mind quickly, and I’m after you 
from now on.” 

This made Tilly laugh, but she did not seem displeased. 

They picnicked in a grove near the edge of town and 
then finished the circuit. Then they navigated all the 
streets and alleys and returned home to quiz one another 
all that evening. They were all surprised to find how 
much they had learned about the city. 

Billy’s visits followed one another in quick succession. 
He knew his own mind, as he had said, and Tilly’s in¬ 
clined to him more and more. When Sam awoke to the 
state of affairs he knew the second bomb had fallen and 
might burst at any minute. 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


79 


Bomb the Third 

Arma’s first loves were merely fancies. Having no 
substantial foundation they died as soon as born. Sam 
and Tilly had made no secret of her origin and she was 
spared a shock when she learned it of those pests of 
society whom, like the poor and Congress, we have 
always with us. She was a great reader and devoured 
all the books she could obtain. Among these was Char¬ 
lotte Bronte’s story of '‘The Professor.” With the read¬ 
ing of this story a new point of view dawned upon her. 
She had before this looked upon Sam as immeasurably 
older and belonging to a disappearing age. But it ap¬ 
peared that a difference of ages was not so important as 
she had imagined, indeed might be an advantage from 
many points of view. Her previous flames had been 
boys, except for the divine, and he was a man of no per¬ 
ception—not worth considering. Besides, Sam had 
money—almost always a consideration with girls, who 
are nearly always full of worldly wisdom. Sam had be¬ 
come a possibility. As she studied him further he be¬ 
came a probability. She grew shy and a trifle coquettish. 
But Sam for a long time took no notice. He was ab¬ 
sorbed in other matters. 

Arina was, of course, very much interested in Tilly’s 
Jove affair as it developed. She viewed it with much 


8o 


JUST SAMUEL JONES 


favor. The same worldly wisdom which told her that 
Sam was desirable from a matrimonial point of view, 
told her also that if Tilly should go to Pittsburgh Sam 
must more fully depend upon her. She became interested 
in cooking and studied all Sam’s needs. Tilly was study¬ 
ing Billy at the same time. Arma secretly began to resent 
any interference with Sam—he was her property. She 
pampered him like a born mother—which she was. 

Gradually but unconsciously Arma revealed her new- 
set of ideas to Tilly who was not lacking in perception; 
but Tilly made no sign—she was relieved. For Sam’s 
welfare was dear to her, and here were other hands to 
take up the tasks she must lay down. She became Arma’s 
co-conspirator, gradually resigning to her the primacy 
in Sam’s affairs which she had hitherto kept as her own. 

As Arma became absorbed in Sam, she began to mani¬ 
fest an interest in his work and asked many questions. 
It was pleasant to teach a pupil so bright, so much in¬ 
terested and so beautiful—for Sam could not help but 
notice her beauty. There were others who saw it also. 
The young men began to call and she was not annoyed at 
first; but few of them interested her very long. They 
knew so little. One day she betrayed herself. One of 
these boys had bored her for an hour before he departed 
and she met Sam in the passage. 

“Well, has he gone?” said Sam. 


JUST SAMUEE JONES 


8l 


“Yes, he has,” she replied, “and I am so glad, I like 
you much better.” And these words were accompanied 
by a look which would have awakened and galvanized 
an anchorite, and then she blushed a rosy red and fled. 

There are really two bombs in this chapter. Arina’s 
bomb was a copy of “The Professor,” Sam’s bomb was 
the look Arma gave him when she blushed. 

Bomb the Fourth and Fast 

It came the next morning while Arma was concocting 
a tapioca pudding—one of Sam’s favorites. There was 
a ring at the front door and a well-dressed lady entered 
and asked: “Does Samuel Jones live here?” 

“Yes,” said Arma. 

“Are you the little girl they found in their auto?” 

“Yes,” said Arma, wonderingly. 

“Then I am your mother.” 

“Why did you give me away?” 

“Your father deserted me and I was penniless. I have 
been poor ever since until quite recently, too poor to 
claim you. An uncle in California died last month and 
left me his money. I have been out settling his estate 
and I am just back. I want you to go with me.” 

“No,” said Arma, “I cannot go with you but I can see 
you very often, and I am so glad I have a mother to love.” 
Then they fell into each others arms in tears. 


82 


JUST SAMUEX JONES 


When Arma told her story at lunch the others gasped. 
She continued: “I think I must go to her.” Then Sam 
gasped: “My God! I’ll be all alone. Get her to come 
here, Arma, I can’t bear to have you go.” 

Now wasn’t Arma a sly puss? And she did not go, 
Sam went to her. He told her how much he loved her. 
She listened sagely and said: “yes, she liked him pretty 
well. She thought she might like to stay with him.” And 
she did. And after awhile Sam discovered that she had 
been madly in love with him all the time—but he did not 
discover this for a long time, she was a woman and did 
not tell all she knew for awhile. She grew more fond 
of Sam every day and now she tells him everything— 
almost. 


Fat and Lean 


This story was told by lame Lewellyn Sangster to his 
aunt Margaret, uncle Fred, cousin Anita and Sam the 
hired man. 

Nan Heberlein and Lula Manting were fast friends. 
They were fond of meeting at each others' homes and 
pretending to sew; sometimes they did sew; sometimes 
they promptly adjourned and went to the movies; some¬ 
times they -called in their lady friends who were of the 
same order of busy, and played 500 , or bridge, or some 
other game; but always they talked; and laughed; and 
ate. They were not singular people: they fitly repre¬ 
sented the average American lady who does most of her 
own work, feeds and dresses her children and sends them 
to school, and in the afternoon finds an hour or more to 
relax. 

Nan was tall and slim, Lula was getting plump—at 
least so her friends called it; her unfriends said she was 
pursey. But no one was so conscious of her too great 
rotundity as Lula herself. It was constantly in the back 
of her mind and frequently in a front pew. She liked to 
discuss it with her friends and her husband—complain- 
ingly, anxiously, plaintively, contemplatively, sugges¬ 
tively and in various other ways. Jake listened and 
grunted; sometimes he forgot to listen and grunt while 


8 4 


FAT AND LEAN 


his mind was dwelling on the quantity of sugar, or 
molasses, or something else needed in the store. She 
occasionally noted this lack of attention on Jake’s part 
but did not really resent it, for, she thought; if he 
doesn’t pay much attention to it he probably still likes 
me all right. But if he should notice much, or if it should 
increase, I must certainly do something. But this some¬ 
thing, what should it be ? What method must be adopted ? 
She consulted the doctor on his next visit. That much 
harassed and suffering servant of humanity suggested 
more exercise and careful avoidance of fat and sugar in 
the diet. He also suggested that it would be well to eat 
very sparingly and always leave the table hungry. This 
gave her something to do, and she straightway began a 
course of sprouts with herself. It was a sore trial to 
eat too little, but she did it. Was it not worth something 
to retain Jake’s admiration and desolation to lose it? 

This whole matter was duly discussed and thoroughly 
considered, forwards, backwards and sideways, when she 
and Nan next met. After which Nan trotted out her 
trouble. It was necessary, she said, that she should 
gain weight. Tom had commented on her slimness, com¬ 
pared her to a rail and several other articles more noted 
for length than breadth. Nan only weighed 115. She 
should weight at least 140. How could she increase her 
weight? Lula had been reading up about such matters 


FAT AND DEAN 


85 


in a book recommended by Dr. Dash, and she would see 
what he said and report. 

This was done and Nan was recommended to eat 
plenty of raw eggs every day. A dozen a day would 
not be too many. If she could not afford so many eat 
as many as she thought she could afford; and drink lots 
of milk. If this would not make her fat nothing would. 
It was necessary, too, to take lots of exercise. The 
doctors say that exercise is necessary to health, and 
whether you are to get thin or fat exercise is of first im¬ 
portance. 

After two weeks of self denial and exercise to excess, 
as she thought, Lula, who had weighed 160, found her 
net reduced to 155. This seemed to her hard lines. The 
game was not worth the candle. But she persevered and 
at the end of two weeks more had fallen to 150. This 
was encouraging, but she began to fear she would not 
be able to hold out forever. She was so desperately 
hungry! Her dreams began to be haunted by luscious 
feasts. She woke up in the night, ravenous. She told 
Jake that if she were not desperately fond of him she 
would bite him. At this, Jake only grunted. The worst 
deprivation was candy. She was extravagantly fond of 
it, but the doctor sternly forbade it. Candy, fat and 
sugar, as well as starchy foods were to be eschewed; 
even potatoes were forbidden. 


86 


FAT AND DEAN 


Nan, on the contrary, had eaten raw eggs and milk 
until she gagged every time she undertook to eat a raw 
egg in milk. Lula suggested using a little brandy to give 
a flavor, but this soon palled. She did manage to reach 
118 but halted there. Lula halted, too, on the downward 
path, at 150. No amount of fasting or exercise seemed 
to avail. About this time she discovered that her skin 
was getting wrinkled and that, worst of all, wrinkles 
were forming on her face. After much consultation it 
was decided that a visit to a beauty doctor might possibly 
remedy this. Instead of one visit several were required. 
All this time her appetite was growing mightier and 
mightier. Finally she fell. They had been shopping to¬ 
gether. She had seen candy displayed until she was 
reckless. In this mood, after leaving Nan, she hurried 
into a candy shop with the air of a criminal, bought and 
ate half a pound. Nothing serious happened imme¬ 
diately, so in a few days she bought and ate again— 
clandestinely. Made reckless by lack of immediate re¬ 
sults she resumed her old habits and presently found 
her weight increasing rapidly—more rapidly than it had 
gone down. 

Nan had become discouraged. She felt well—better 
than she had felt for a long time. She had, in fact, be¬ 
fore this been eating too little. Too many meals had been 


FAT AND DEAN 


87 


passed with nothing eaten but tea and toast—now she 
was really nourished for the first time in years. 

About this time she heard some one remark that yeast 
was a very fattening food, and that she herself had put 
on twenty pounds by eating a cake daily for three months. 
So Nan bought a cake and ate it with many qualms. It 
was certainly not very agreeable to the taste. She per¬ 
severed, however, and after two weeks discovered that 
she was indeed gaining. In fact she began to get fat. 
Slowly but steadily she put on weight until she became 
alarmed. She was obliged to buy an entire new outfit 
and although she stopped the yeast cakes she still swelled. 
Now in despair she began, like Lula, to diet. 

But imagine if you can all the discussions, the visits 
to and fro, the consultations without end to which these 
fluctuations led. In mercy I have not recounted them— 
but they took place. 

Lula did her own washing, rolled on the floor every 
morning, practised calisthenics. Wonderful to relate, 
she began to lose flesh steadily; her skin wrinkled and 
her color faded. She became alarmed and consulted the 
doctor who failed to find anything wrong. Now Lula 
is desperately trying to lay on flesh while Nan is just as 
determinedly reducing. 



FAT AND FEAN 


“I never realized before,” said Lewellyn, “what an 
awful thing it must be to be a woman.” 

“It is indeed piteous,” said Sam. “The poor things 
have to wear skirts; they are not allowed to put their 
feet on the table or spit tobacco juice on the stove. But 
then they are freely allowed to do the washing and such 
light work as taking care of ten or twelve children.” 

“You must remember the disabilities she suffers,” said 
Fred. “She is not allowed to go to war, nor is she ex¬ 
pected to haul out manure in the hot weather. When the 
time comes for putting in wheat I know of nothing more 
enjoyable than hauling out manure and spreading it on 
the field. The smell is appetizing, and like most perfume, 
it clings. The flies are active and make the horses play¬ 
ful. I seldom enjoy life so much as then; and it worries 
me that the dear ladies are not privileged to participate.” 

“Sam is right,” said Anita, “The women are privileged 
to bring up the children. They bear the brunt of their 
childish impatience, recklessness and disobedience. They 
stay up with them nights when they are sick and they 
are expected to be patient and long suffering with hus¬ 
bands and children when they can scarcely drag one foot 
after the other. I have known of cases,” she continued, 
“where the women hauled coal out of the cellars habit- 


FAT AND LEAN 


89 


ually, and cases are known where women plow, haul 
manure, clean out dirty stables and help in the field. I 
don’t really think the women need complain that their 
work is lacking either in quality, quantity or variety.” 


Woozy 

Woozy opened his eyes for the first time and looked 
up. There was a little boy, and in his hand was a 
saucer in which was some white stuff. The boy smiled at 
him. Woozy was interested in the white stuff; it looked 
good. He licked some with his tongue. It tasted good 
but it was very cold. Woozy licked it again but pretty 
soon his tongue got so cold he would have to stop lick¬ 
ing for awhile. But he went on licking and after awhile 
it was all gone and the dish was licked clean. Then he 
looked up at the boy and said: “Woof!” But it was 
a very small woof, for Woozy was a very small, round, 
roly poly puppy. He said woof, three or four times but 
the boy only smiled for he had no more of the white 
stuff. He would have given more to Woozy if he had 
had it but he could not give more if he did not have it. 

Pretty soon the door opened and a monstrous big dog 
came in. She went over and tried to lick the boy’s face. 
Then she laid down beside him. Then the boy took a ball 
of cord and rolled it into a corner and Woozy trotted 
after it. He grabbed it and worried it, and growled— 
frightfully. Pretty soon his mother went over to him, 
took him by the back of the neck and carried him over 
to the boy and laid him down, as much as to say: 

“I think he is naughty, and you had better make him 
behave.” But the boy just smiled and stroked the dogs 


WOOZY 


91 


with his hand. First he would stroke the mother and 
then he would stroke Woozy. The mother would lick 
his hand but Woozy pinched it with his sharp little teeth. 

Woozy and the boy grew up together. They both got 
bigger every day until the boy was nearly as big as his 
father and Woozy nearly as big as his mother. Woozy 
thought the boy was perfect. He followed him every¬ 
where. If you saw the boy anywhere you might know 
that Woozy was around, and if you saw Woozy you 
might know that the boy was not far off. 

Sometimes they took long walks together in the woods. 
Woozy would run off among the trees but pretty soon he 
would come back to the boy and look up in his face and 
say: “woof,” which meant why don’t you come along and 
have some fun? Once robbers tried to steal the boy, but 
Woozy growled and showed his teeth until the robbers 
ran away. 

One day the boy was crossing a pasture field. There 
was a cross bull there lying down behind some bushes. 
When he saw the boy he began pawing the dirt and then 
he ran after him. Woozy grabbed the bull’s tail and held 
on till the bull turned around. Then he fell off and 
rolled over and over. The bull ran after him and stuck 
one horn through his poor body. The boy had climbed 
over the fence and he screamed and cried with all his 
might. Then the bull threw up his head and poor 
7 


92 


WOOZY 


Woozy’s dead body flew over the fence. Oh, how mad 
the boy was and how he cried! His mamma said, 
“Never mind dear, Woozy was willing to give his life for 
you.” But the boy was lonely, and he cried as hard as 
he could cry when they buried Woozy in the garden. 


The Hermit 


In a cave on the south side of the mountain there 
once lived a hermit. He was only middle aged but his 
hair was white. He was kind of manner and speech but 
he often sighed as one bereft of hope. He worked for 
the farmers round about, who paid him with potatoes or 
other produce or sometimes with money when they could 
spare it. He lived a lonely life on the mountainside with 
no one to share it. Here he snared rabbits and caught 
skunks and foxes and sold their skins. In a space be¬ 
fore the cave he built a rough cabin which concealed the 
entrance. To one side of this he built a shack to house 
his chickens and on the other side he planted apples, 
pears and peaches. Grapes he shunned as open to mis¬ 
construction. He gathered firewood in the forest and no 
one molested him. The water for drinking and cooking 
came from a spring on the mountainside not far from his 
door. 

He was kind to the children and often gave them 
candy. The path to and from the schoolhouse led past 
his door and he often saw the school teacher passing. 
She was a lady who had begun to teach several years 
before this story opens. She had been very beautiful as 
a girl but now some of her fresh complexion had gone 
where the good complexions go, and she was using a 


94 


THE HERMIT 


powder puff instead. Her nose was a little sharper and 
she was rather more positive in some of her ideas than 
she had been as a young girl. The children always 
spoke to the hermit and in this way she got to know him. 

At Christmas time she had a two-weeks vacation. 
There was a heavy fall of snow which drifted, so that 
all the roads were closed. She said to her mother: 

“I wonder how my poor hermit is getting along in 
this snow, all alone on the mountainside.” 

“It is too bad said her mother,” who did and said 
pretty much as Anna-Bell wished her. 

When school opened again she stopped at his house to 
enquire. 

The hermit said he was getting along pretty well, thank 
you, but she looked around the room with distaste. There 
was much dirt in the corners, the windows needed clean¬ 
ing and dirty dishes were standing on the table. 

“Don’t you ever go to town?” said she. 

“Yes,” he replied, “I am going this afternoon and shall 
not get home until after dark.” 

She made no reply but a light came into her eyes. 
After school she hurried to the cottage, pinned a towel 
around her and began to sweep and scrub. Then she 
closed the door carefully and went home. When he came 
home it seemed more cheerful but he noticed nothing 
more. The next morning he only said: “Good Morning,” 


THE HERMIT 


95 


though she seemed to expect something more. That 
afternoon on her way home she asked him for a drink of 
water. 

Then she said to him: “Where are you from ?” 

“My home was in New York/’ said he. 

“What did you do?” she asked. 

“I was in the commission business,” he replied, “but 
I grew ashamed.” 

“You deserve a reward,” said she, “choose one!” 

“I need a cook,” said he, “come and cook for me as 
soon as you can learn.” 


Sandy’s Story 

I used to live in New Jersey when I was young, in a 
place called Eopatcong Mills. I was workin in the mills. 
There was two other fellers workin there with me and we 
was about the same age, size and build, as you might say. 

One of the fellers was Sam Harkness and the other 
Enos Kerber. Enos was all for gittin married. He 
was e’enamost crazy about gals, and I guess he pestered 
’em some. Anyhow he didn’t seem to get along very 
fast gittin married. 

I aint very keen about gals myself, and I wasn’t then ; 
but, as I said, Enos liked to be with ’em. He spent most 
all his wages buyin ice cream fer ’em. He said he kinda 
liked to see ’em lickin it up like nice little pussy cats. 

“Yes,” I says, “I guess you would like to be a mouse,” 
says I, “and listen to what they says.” 

“No,” says he, “but they use me like the cat would 
a mouse.” 

Well, he was always talkin about the gals and about 
gittin married ’till I got e’enamost worn out. So one 
day I says: “Enos,” says I, “ why don’t you advertise ?” 

“Advertise fer what?” says he. 

“Why, fer a wife,” says I. 

“Sure,” says he, “where can I do it?” 

Sam Harkness and me put our heads together, as you 
might say, and we wrote an “ad” like this: 


SANDY*S STORY 


97 


“Advertiser wants to marry nice looking girl about 20. 
Address with photo., Box. 28, Phillipsburg, N. J.” 

We sent this with $5.00 to a paper in Chicago that we 
had seen, and pretty soon Enos began to git letters and 
photos. The photos was all good lookin; and to some 
of the best lookers Enos sent hisn. Now, hisn was what 
you might call a side face, kinda sickly smilin, as if the 
man that took it had said: “Now look smilin!” 

Enos wasn’t a bad looker, himself, nor he wasn’t no 
beauty neither. 

One day I took the bosses wife to the train; and I 
was standin on the platform, when a middle aged female 
comes up to me and flung her arms around me. 

“Hello! Sandy,” says she, “here I am. Aint ye glad? 
Why,” she says, “you’re better lookin than yer picture. 
I just took such a fancy to it that I got right on the train 
and come right on, and here I am.” 

“Who are you lookin fer?” says I, gittin flustered, “I 
don’t know nothing about this. What do you mean, any¬ 
how?” 

“Young man,” says she, “is this you? and is this your 
handwritin?” so sayin, she pulls out a picture of me and 
a letter which I had written fer Enos in lead pencil; but 
his name was rubbed out and mine signed. 

“Well, that’s my picture,” says I, “but that letter’s a 
forgery, as you might say.” 


98 


sandy's story 


Well, she bust out a cry in and a crowd begun to form, 
so I put her in the wagon and took her to the mill fer 
dinner. Then I brought her back and put her on the 
train, her crying most of the time. I paid her fare both 
ways and she said I was real kind and must come to see 
her, but I aint been yet. 


The Hoboes 


After the close of the Civil War, from 1865 to a 
much later date, a great many men had been soldiers and 
were discharged, had grown fond of a wandering life 
and were unable to resist its charms. It was about this 
time that the army of tramps gained so many recruits 
as to become a great national nuisance. Many of these 
men were still clad, in whole or in part, in army blue 
uniforms; and some of the army overcoats survived 
several winters. There were many of these hoboes on 
the road, moving from place to place, sometimes afoot, 
sometimes beating their way on the railroads, where they 
finally became a menace to the trainmen and to the com¬ 
munities along the right of way. 

Most of the subsistence of these tramps was lifted 
from the charitable by the process known as “slamming 
gates.” Not a few of the tramps were very soft spoken 
when men or cross dogs were about but became bold and 
saucy when the women folks were alone. The food 
gained by begging was supplemented by petty thefts of 
chickens, eggs, green corn and other produce and the 
snaring of rabbits and other small game. 

Just above Milford, New Jersey, the Delaware River 
breaks through a ridge of New Red Sandstone, forming 
a cliff of red rock, the color of which is due to peroxid 


IOO 


THE HOBOES 


of iron, facing the south. Along these cliffs there are 
many ledges; and in the winter, as the sun beats against 
these ledges, it heats the rocks and creates an atmosphere 
several degrees warmer than that of the surrounding 
country. 

On one of these ledges overhanging the railroad, which 
follows the New Jersey shore of the river, a band of 
hoboes had established their camp. There had been a 
heavy fall of snow the night before as two tramps were 
released from the county prison at Flemington where 
they had been spending a sad week breaking stone. 

“Better not come this way again/’ said the Sheriff as 
he released them; “we’ve got your numbers here, and 
next time you’ll get a heavy dose.” 

“I’m going to head for Milford camp,” said Harvard 
Jim to Deadwood Ike, his companion, “I am getting tired 
of Jersey.” 

“This here beats cock fightin,” replied Ike. “Every 
darn muscle in my body aches to beat the band, and here 
we’re turned out in the snow. Lucky we had breakfast.” 

All day they plodded doggedly along toward Milford, 
cold and with wet feet. At noon they had several 
“hand outs” which fended off starvation, and that night 
they camped in a wood where the bushes sheltered them 
and their fire. The next day was warmer and the sun 
shone, melting the snow. They reached the camp with 


the: hoboes 


IOI 


wet feet, tired and hungry and were greeted with jeers 
and laughter. The pot was boiling over a wood fire and 
they were soon fed and warmed. The ground was bare 
and not too dry as they hunted a place to rest. Finally, 
Ike curled down and tried to go to sleep, but was kept 
awake by an intolerable prickling sensation in his back. 
This grew worse until it became intolerable. 

“Say boys!” said he, “Something’s the matter with my 
back.” So saying, he started to strip off his coat. 

“Wait a minute,” said Harvard Jim, “you have some¬ 
thing hanging to your coat.” So saying, he pulled it off 
but immediately began to dance and swear. 

“That’s a cactus,” said another tramp. “I forgot to 
tell you they’re thick around here.” 

The best part of an hour was spent in picking spines 
from their respective hides, and then they once more 
went to rest, this time carefully inspecting the premises 
to avoid the cactus. 

Next morning they started for the Milford Bridge re¬ 
solved to quit Jersey forever; but at the bridge they were 
met by the toll-keeper who declined to allow them to 
pass without the customary two cents each. This they 
did not have but were forced to beg with poor success— 
plenty to eat but no money. Just at this point they were 
stopped by the constable who put them under arrest for 
begging. 


102 


the; hoboejs 


“Say, friend,” said Harvard Jim, “if you will find us 
a place where we can saw some wood for a quarter we 
will pay our way over the bridge and stay away from 
Jersey.” 

“All right,” said the constable, “I have some wood 
myself.” 

For two hours they toiled, one with the saw, the other 
with the axe, sawing and splitting a huge pile of firewood, 
inspected meanwhile by the constable. At the end of 
this time they struck work and were offered ten cents 
each. 

“Have a heart, brother,” said Ike, “that’s no way to 
treat us.” 

“Beat it, or I’ll put you in the jug,” said he, “and 
none of your lip, either.” 

They were silent until they reached the middle of the 
bridge; then Ike shook his fist at Jersey and swore fur¬ 
iously. 

“Breakin stone, trampin in snow, sleepin on cactus, 
sawin wood, an cheatin constables. Damn such a State!” 


Jumping Steel 


“I suppose you know” said Sam “that there are a great 
many kinds of steel in the market nowadays, such as high 
carbon steel, low carbon steel, manganese steel, tungsten 
steel, nickel steel . . . 

“Yes,” said Lewellyn, “and Wildcat oil steal and Wall 
Street steals . . . 

“Now, Lewellyn,” said aunt Margaret, “this is Sam’s 
story, not yours.” 

“All right,” said Lewellyn, “I guess I can stand it if 
you can.” 

“There are a great many ways of treating steel, too,” 
continued Sam, “for giving it desired properties, some of 
which have been very successful.” 

“I knew a fellow in the Bethlehem Steel Company 
several years ago who was a nut on steel treating. He 
said that by selecting the proper kind of steel, such as 
nickel steel or chrome steel or some other sort, it was 
possible to get any desired properties if you gave the steel 
proper heat treatment. He was my roommate for a 
year and he talked about this so much that I got all worn 
out—and mad. 

“First I told him that I wanted a steal that could not 
be found out but he paid no attention. Then I asked 
whether it would be possible to make a steel for springs 


104 


JUMPING STEEL 


that could be pushed down two inches and come back 
four. I found I had given him something to think about. 
He shut up right away and began to think. I could 
always tell when he was thinking by the fishy stare that 
came into his eye; like the eye of a fresh fish that is ten 
days old. 

“He studied on this for nearly a week and I had a 
blessed rest. I began to hope it would keep him quiet 
forever; but at the end of the week he said he thought 
he could do it. His eyes had lost the fishy stare and a 
smile spread over his face and stayed there. I forget 
what the steel was to have in it but I remember it was to 
contain molybdenum. 

“He went up to Bethlehem the very next day and I 
saw no more of him for a week. When he came back he 
said he had been working hard and thought he was on 
the track but the darn stuff was brittle. Still he thought 
he might be able to overcome that if he had time enough. 
I told him he could have all the time that was coming 
but he paid no attention. Every time he came back 
after that he would sit and stare and the fishy look 
would come back: then he would slap his leg and hurry 
back to Bethlehem. 

“About a month after I had put the idea into his head 
he came back one day and said he had the kind of steel 
I wanted. 


JUMPING STEEL 


105 


“I told him to make me two coiled springs two inches 
wide and four inches long, with a steel plate fastened 
to either end. One of these plates was to have four 
holes in for screws, so it could be fastened to the heel 
of a shoe. I said that on second thought he had better 
make three springs, so that if one broke we might still 
have enough. 

“Yes, he thought that might be wise, because springs 
were apt to break. When he came back next time he 
had a dozen springs in a box. They were beautifully 
made and were silver plated, too. 

“Then we couldn’t agree at first who should put them 
on and see how they worked. He said I had started the 
idea, and it would not be fair that he should have the 
honor of first trying them. But I said the idea was not 
worth much; he had made the right kind of steel and the 
way to heat treat it; that was two to my one. I was 
really afraid to try the darn things myself, and when 
you hear what happened you won’t wonder. 

“We fastened one spring to each of a pair of his shoes. 
He did not put them on but carried them and wore 
another pair to the end of Bushkill Street where we 
planned to try them out. There isn’t much traffic there, 
and we wanted a quiet place for our experiment. He 
put on the spring shoes at Green Street and jumped to¬ 
wards the river. The first jump was two feet, the second 


io6 


JUMPING STEJEX 


four, the third eight and the fourth sixteen. By the 
time he got to the river he was jumping sixty-four feet 
at a clip. Then the spring on his left foot broke with a 
loud crack and he turned half around and struck the 
water horizontally at thirty miles an hour. He went 
under and came up a little further on, came around in a 
circle and shot out on the sand. He was stunned at first, 
but as soon as he felt a little better he asked me to get 
his other shoes and take these off, which I did. 

“After that we walked home and he sat thinking for 
quite awhile. After he came out of this trance he said it 
seemed easy enough to go, the problem was, how were 
we to stop? He thought it would be easy to steer, too, 
by holding one foot out a little further than the other. 
We could learn to do that easy enough. The best way 
to stop, he thought, would be to have a spring on the 
end of a stick. By holding this so it would strike the 
ground first it would send you back and then you would 
stop. 

“So he got a stick, or rather two sticks—one for each 
hand—and put a spring on each. We had our next 
jumpin match on the Twelfth Street lot about midnight 
of a moonlight night. He jumped two feet and came 
back four; jumped eight feet and came back sixteen. 
By the time he was up to sixty-four feet he struck the 
roof of a house, went through and landed in a bed. It 


JUMPING STEEX 


107 


was lucky he did: he might have been killed if he had 
landed anywhere else. It was a slate roof, and he was 
pretty badly scratched when he came down in his stock¬ 
ing feet. He was afraid to keep his shoes on for fear 
he might get started again. The man who owned the 
house was with him, looking pretty mad. 

“It cost him quite a little to mend the roof and pacify 
the man, but he finally got it fixed up. I told him he 
wanted to be more careful; next time he might land in 
a bed with some girl or the old woman and that would 
cost him more yet. 

“I got so nervous about this time that I moved into 
another room. I was afraid if I went on going out with 
him the police might manage to stay awake long enough 
to pinch us. The last time I saw him he told me they had 
made some bed springs out of this steel by mistake and 
some of them were sent out and used. He heard of a 
man who had a cot in his summer tent. He came in one 
afternoon very tired and threw himself on the cot and the 
next thing he knew he flew through the top of the tent 
fell back and broke through and landed on the floor with 
an awful jolt. He told me he was sure that steel would 
be a money maker as soon as he learned how to control 
it. 


8 


All the Way from Melbourne 

A college teacher learns much about far away places 
if he cares to do so. This knowledge is also very inti¬ 
mate and very accurate. It is the kind of knowledge that 
cannot be drawn from books of travel or from encyclo¬ 
pedias. It is first-hand information given by people who 
have lived there. It is obtained from his students. Most 
of those he is called upon to teach come, probably, from 
within a radius of fifty or a hundred miles. There is al¬ 
ways a sprinkling, however, of boys from far off places. 

Rochambeau College always has a few such. I can 
remember among them several from Japan, from China, 
India, South America, and one from Siam. We some¬ 
times hear from these boys after they have returned to 
their homes and once in a great while we are rich enough 
to visit them. What a fuss they make when we do and 
how glad they seem to be to see us. I have been some¬ 
thing of a traveler in a small way and everywhere I have 
gone, and been able to turn aside to visit the boys, I have 
met the most cordial welcome. This is one of the re¬ 
wards that come to the teacher who has tried to do his 
best. Sometimes he comes in contact with people from 
distant lands in strange ways; and it is about one of 
these strange happenings that I am about to tell. 

After I had been teaching for several years I married 
Sally Lunn, the daughter of a local baker. We had 


ALL THE WAY FROM MELBOURNE 


109 


two sons and a daughter to bless our union. I noticed as 
the years passed that my surplus cash was waning rather 
than waxing. This led me to make a careful review of 
the situation. My salary was scarcely opulent and was 
not mounting with great rapidity. It was evident that if 
Providence saw fit to endow us with a continued shower 
of childish blessings I must either find more income or 
breakfast, lunch and dine on corn mush—and I was not 
fond of mush. 

Among my early investments had been the purchase 
of a printing press. The outfit was a small one but it 
was complete and such as enabled me to make a begin¬ 
ning as a printer in a small way. As I practised the art 
I became constantly more skilful and could now print a 
very fair job. This seemed to furnish an opening and 
I went to work. The venture was moderately successful 
and led to a decided, though moderate, increase in my 
income. Presently I was able to buy a larger press and 
more type and to rent a room in the town in which to in¬ 
stall it. Here I employed a competent foreman and 
began my commercial career. 

I had written a text book for my pupils in the mean¬ 
time and this I printed and published. Then I started 
a journal in which my book was advertised, leading to 
orders from abroad and the influx of manuscripts from 
my friends. In a few years I had a prosperous business 


no 


ALL THE WAY FROM MELBOURNE 


on my hands and all my spare time was usefully em¬ 
ployed. It soon became necessary to arrange for agents 
for the sale of my publications abroad. This was easily 
arranged in London and Tokio but more difficult in other 
places. I wrote to Secretary of Commerce Hoover for 
the name of an agent in Melbourne and he sent me the 
names of about fifty firms, dealers in books in that 
place. I immediately aimed at the flock and fired four 
letters at random, but brought down no birds. Weeks 
and months passed on without a response. 

I am a late riser by preference and an early one only 
under compulsion. I was finishing my breakfast at a 
moderate rate one morning when word came that a 
gentleman had called and was waiting for me. My 
visitor was a middle aged man, plainly dressed in tweed 
with a cloth cap. He informed me that he was traveling 
for pleasure and had undertaken to go from New York 
to San Francisco by auto. He had stopped for the night 
at our local hotel and in descending a dark stirway had 
fallen and broken his arm. He was admitted to the 
hospital, permitted the setting of the arm and submitted 
to the necessary delay—for it was impossible to drive 
with one arm. He found himself doomed to inaction, 
for his daily occupation was confined to a visit to the 
hospital to have his arm dressed, and time hung heavy 
on his hands. In this dilemma he inquired of Dr. Kuhl- 


ALL, THE WAY FROM MELBOURNE 


III 


mann, his attendant and one of my old students, whether 
there was not some one else in the place with a taste for 
science. Dr. Kuhlmann had referred him to me. 

I told Mr. Humphreys that I was very glad to meet 
him and would do my best to help him pass the time 
pleasantly during his enforced delay. I found he was 
posted on his own country, Australia. He knew some¬ 
thing about its geology and about its politics also. I 
announced that we would have an evening together with 
our professors of geology and economics in a day or two, 
as soon as it could be arranged. In the meantime I asked 
him whether he liked to dance ? He said he did, and my 
wife, who had met him by this time, invited him to 
spend that very evening with us—we expected some 
young people in to dance and thought it might amuse 
him. He came and was much liked by the young folks. 
A few evenings later he came to tea with us and spent the 
evening with the two professors and their wives. Of 
course they pumped him for first-hand information and 
obtained it. We spent a delightful and very profitable 
evening together. 

The next morning I proposed to take him over my 
publishing house. We met there and made the rounds. 
I showed him some of our books and he appeared to be 
more than ordinarily interested in them. As he was 
leaving he informed me that he was starting for the 


112 


ALL THE WAY FROM MELBOURNE 


West in the morning after. “I don’t see why,” he said, 
“I might not sell some of your books myself. I am a 
scientific bookseller in Melbourne, and I shall take great 
pleasure in selling as many of your books as I can.” 


A Defense of the Wealthy 


Contrary to a generally held opinion, there are some 
wealthy people who may be successfully defended. There 
are not so many of them, however, that any serious 
disturbance need be created. There is, perhaps, some 
danger that these may be overlooked in the universal 
damnation that is being handed out to the malefactors of 
great wealth. 

The first exception to be noted is that of the inventor. 
Quite a few of these men have lightened our tasks to a 
very considerable extent. They have in a few cases 
amassed a competence by taxing us for their inventions 
for seventeen years. After that their work is free for 
all, at least in theory. A great many of these men have 
had no benefit from their inventions and might well be 
pensioned from public funds. In not a few cases the 
profits that should have gone to them have been filched 
by men who had money to lend. Such cases should be 
overhauled and the ill-gotten gains of the banker folks 
restored to their proper owners. It would be well also 
to give the bankers the spanking they need, thus making 
one job of the whole business. 

When we think that Whitney, who invented the cotton 
gin; Steinmetz, the electrical wizard; Pupin, who per¬ 
fected the telephone; Edison, Gray, Acheson, Morse, 


1 14 A DEFENSE OF THE WEALTHY 

McCormick and thousands of others, some as well, 
others less well known belong to this class, we realize 
how greatly we are indebted to them, and how cheaply 
we get off by allowing them to profit by their inventions 
for seventeen short years. 

Then there are some school teachers and college pro¬ 
fessors who might be excepted and a few ministers. 
Some of these fellows married money, and we will not 
except these; some of them inherited money, and we 
will not except these; a few of them stole money, and 
these must be spanked. After these exceptions have 
been made there will be a few left and they have lived 
such a deuce of a life that we will let them go. 

There does not seem to be any great harm in the man 
who saved in order that he might keep out of the alms¬ 
house when he grew too old to work. We should not 
tax these people, either, if they have only moderate 
means. Our wise legislators, however, do not seem to 
think so. Many cases of this kind have been heard of 
during and since the late unpleasantness where the poor 
souls had a hard time keeping body and spirit together 
after the tax collector was through with them. 

All farmers who have made money should be let off, 
provided they made money by real farming and not by 
selling fancy cattle, poultry, etc., at startling prices. Real 
farming is a man’s job, and those who succeed at it de- 


A DEFENSE of the wealthy 115 

serve to be patted on the back. The fellows who sell 
the blooded stock belong in about the same class as the 
bond salesman—we will come to these later on. 

The married couples who bring up and properly edu¬ 
cate, say four or more children, are also deserving. If 
their children are grateful so much the better; if they 
chip in and support their father and mother—fine! In 
the last case we might safely except everybody con¬ 
cerned. 

Of course we must except the lame, the halt and the 
blind; and perhaps a few others have been unintention¬ 
ally skipped, but there seem to be few others. Now we 
come to those who need punishment of some kind. 

First among these are the office-holders. There are 
a few among them who really earn all they get—but 
not many. Office holding ought to be made a dangerous 
business, and running for the Presidency punished with 
death. 

Bankers ought to be periodically inspected and made 
to give an account of themselves, so should lawyers, 
and real-estate agents. The doctors, some of them, need 
watching. They are a frightfully jealous lot and out¬ 
side testimony only, can be relied on. If a good one is 
found he should be patted on the back. There are a lot 
of these but most of them live in the country where the 
air is good. Those who live in the city and have hos- 


Il6 A DEFENSE of the wealthy 

pitals where they charge $100.00 for opening a pimple 
and $25.00 for giving you four ounces of ether should 
be heavily docked and then fined. 

There are far too many wholesale and retail merchants 
and too few farmers. We might well cut out half of the 
merchants for a start and make them move out on farms 
where they could be really useful. If they commit sui¬ 
cide instead of farming, so much the better. There are 
also too many book agents and bond salesmen and 
brokers and clerks in stores. Too many newspapers are 
published and too much paper wasted in doing it. This 
needs regulating. The best way to do it is to tax these 
things and let the farmers alone for the present, until 
they have $5.00 ahead. 

And the fellows who are loafing around waiting for 
a bonus should be put to a painless death. They will 
never be of any real use. The labor agitators and strike 
leaders are in the way, too. 

Anybody who spends his time loafing or playing golf 
should be stopped, questioned and put to work. If he 
refuses he should be shipped off to an island set apart 
for the purpose where he must work or starve. 

All such wealthy ones should be treated as indicated 
and some of those not wealthy but who belong to the 
same classes need much the same treatment. 


A defense of the wealthy 117 

While we are about it we may perhaps just as well 
do a little more regulating. The Germans, for example, 
have, too many children and the French too few. We 
should take warning and govern ourselves accordingly. 
Of course some people claim that these things are regu¬ 
lated by Providence but it seems probable that there are 
other forces at work. Four children to a family seems 
to be about right and it is suggested that a committee, all 
the members of which have done their full duty and are 
from Missouri, be appointed to see that there are no 
slackers. This is a species of wealth that needs regulat¬ 
ing as well as other kinds. 

The old maids and old bachelors should be heavily 
taxed unless they can satisfy a Missouri committee that 
they have made determined efforts to commit matrimony. 
In that case they should have assistance. 

All would-be voters should be carefully examined be¬ 
fore it is allowed and the recall and repeal should be 
in order. Every voter should be able to spell his or her 
name, tell what rivers run through and by Easton, where 
the Atlantic is situated and what Sing Sing is noted for. 
After all are educated up to this point, the tests should 
gradually be toughened until only those really fit can 
vote. They should be made to vote every time. Gradu¬ 
ally, in this way, every man can learn how to milk cows. 


Il8 A defense of the wealthy 

husk corn, run a plow and chase the pigs out of the 
oats. The women will be able to darn stockings, bake 
bread, sew shirts and run a bridge party. 

By the time these ideas are put to work the millenium 
will be close at hand and we need no longer flee from the 
tax gatherer or hide from the bond salesman. 


The Skin of the Bear 


This story, according to De Comines, was told by the 
Emperor Frederick III of Germany to an emissary of 
King Louis XI of France who wished him to conspire 
against the Duke of Burgundy to their mutual advan¬ 
tage: 

Two ne’er-do-wells living in the interior of Germany 
had patronized the local inn keeper without paying his bill 
until the latter became weary. He finally told them 
that he would give them no more credit. They soon be¬ 
came hungry, thirsty and desperate, and consulted to¬ 
gether as to how they might once more establish their 
credit. While engaged in thus scheming their hunger 
and thirst steadily increased until it became overpower¬ 
ing. Now you must know that the villagers had been 
greatly harried by a monstrous big black bear who, from 
the adjoining forest, ravaged their flocks and their gar¬ 
dens. He was especially fond of sheep and almost 
nightly carried off and devoured them. Nothing was any 
longer safe in the village night or day and large rewards 
were offered to anyone who would kill him and thus 
save them from loss. This was known to the two bums 
who proceeded to make use of it with the good natured 
landlord. They told him if he would only give them 
enough to eat and drink to appease their hunger and 


120 


the: skin of the; bear 


thirst they would at once go in search of the bear and 
proceed to kill him and take off his hide. This, they 
assured the inn keeper, was an enormous hide and its 
sale would yield a large sum which they proposed to use 
in extinguishing their debt and any future advances he 
might see fit to make. This was not all; with the rewards 
they would collect they should become opulent, and they 
promised to spend this at his house, so that all this 
money would in the long run come to him alone. The 
tavern keeper was of an optimistic turn of mind and 
listened to their tale with renewed hope, finally agreeing 
to do as they asked. The two conspirators, as soon as 
they had filled their bellies started out in quest of the 
bear. Now it happened that bruin had become hungry 
earlier than usual that evening and that he had started 
to forage earlier. After eating several ears of corn 
which he took from a field alongside the road he hurried 
along in the gathering dusk toward the village. The 
adventurers were headed in the opposite direction on the 
same road and they rapidly drew together. The bear 
was the first to detect their approach with a loud Whoof! 
This startled the bums and frightened them very badly. 
Without the least delay, the eldest promptly took to a 
tree which, fortunately for him, spread its branches close 
by the road. The second loafer was so badly frightened 
that he fell down in a dead faint and lay upon the ground 


the: SKIN of the: BEAR 


121 


without motion. Without hesitating the bear trotted up 
and smelled the man by putting his nose to the latter’s 
ear. Finding no motion, and thinking the man dead, the 
bear, after taking several sniffs and turning the fellow 
over with a thrust of its paw, proceeded on its way. 
After a short time the tree climber descended and ran 
off as fast as his legs could carry him. The man who 
had fainted presently recovered and proceeded to do 
likewise. Seeing his friend scampering along at a great 
pace some distance ahead he hailed him and his friend 
stopped and allowed him to come up. Together they 
proceeded toward the town and related their tale to the 
landlord, not without much embellishment. The tavern 
keeper finally agreed, in consideration of the difficulty 
of their task, to give a further extension of credit. But 
the tree climber was dissatisfied and proceeded to ques¬ 
tion his fellow bum. “What did the bear ask you,” 
said he, “when he whispered in your ear?” His mate 
replied: “He did not whisper to me.” 

“Yes he did,” said the first, “he whispered in your 
ear for some time. Did I not see him do it? Try not to 
deceive me, it will be in vain.” 

Now the faint-hearted one was also a wit and he, 
therefore, hesitated and finally confessed that something 
had passed, but declared he was not obliged to divulge 
it. This made the first bum angry and he assailed his 


122 


THE SKIN OF THE BEAR 


fellow with threats and reproaches. But still the latter 
declined to divulge the secret. This led to renewed 
threats and finally to blows. The possessor of the 
secret was vanquished and finally agreed to tell it to his 
fellow, but only in the presence of the landlord and the 
village magistrate. It was also agreed that after telling 
the secret he should be allowed to go free without further 
molestation. To this clause the landlord, whose curiosity 
had been aroused, also agreed; further, he promised to 
protect the possessor of the secret. These details having 
been arranged the parties met one morning in the house 
of the magistrate. The second vagabond first recited the 
agreement and having procured the assent of all parties 
began as follows: 

“When Bruin appeared I was frightened and fell in a 
faint. From this I was awakened by a rough tongue 
licking my cheek and a bearish voice whispering in my 
ear. It said: ‘You were to kill me were you not, and to 
take off my hide and sell it? And you were to collect 
the money offered as rewards, and having thus acquired 
much money you agreed, did you not, to pay the account 
of the landlord and stay with him until your money was 
exhausted ?’ 

“I was badly frightened and, thinking my time had 
come and resolving to endanger my hope of salvation by 


THE SKIN OF THE BEAR 


123 


no more lies, I nodded my head in assent. The bear then 
said: 

“ ‘Very well, You are properly punished. As for the 
rascal in the tree the inn keeper has made no agreement 
with him such as that he will make with you; and when 
you have escaped his wrath I advise him to clap him in 
jail. In the meantime I will advise you both never in 
future to sell the hide of a bear before you have killed it, 
nor would I collect rewards for its death before the 
death takes place/ As for the Judge, he is a rascal any¬ 
how and at all times, and is well able to take care of him¬ 
self.” With this the vagabond darted from the room 
and ran up the street pursued by all three who had for¬ 
gotten their promises in their resentment. He however 
made good his escape. 


9 


A Visit from the Wileys 


Many years ago, shortly after I began teaching at 
Lafayette College, I determined to join The American 
Association for the Advancement of Science. This long- 
winded name was given by themselves to a collection of 
bookworms who every year assembled in some good- 
sized city, after having collected some thousands of dol¬ 
lars for expenses of the local merchants, and held as 
many as a dozen pow wows in as many different rooms. 
In one of these rooms a learned discussion on one or 
more mathematical questions was kept up during most of 
the hours of daylight; in a second, subjects in physics 
were undergoing examination; a third room was oc¬ 
cupied by the chemists, a fourth by the biologists; every¬ 
where there was a sprinkling of “nuts” who were in 
danger of breaking out and must be sat upon in order not 
to discredit the serious minded. 

The discussions sometimes dropped into a burst of self¬ 
admiration by some savant devoted to the holy cause of 
science who was keeping the lamp of knowledge burning 
in poverty and distress. These wails were occasionally 
broken in upon by another wholesome-minded soul, like 
the great Cope, who boldly declared that he was not suf¬ 
fering but having a good time and could be happy in no 
other way. 


A VISIT FROM THE WILEYS 


125 


In the evenings some of us put on our best clothes 
and attended a garden party given by a local magnate 
where we met the money bags of the neighborhood and 
for an hour breathed the unaccustomed air of luxury; 
or we attended an evening lecture given by some member 
of the attending band of scientists in compliment to the 
hosts; a chosen few assembled at a room where good 
beer was to be had, in ordinary dress, drank a little beer 
and listened to stories and discussions straight from the 
shoulder and worth while. 

It was in these evening discussions and in daylight 
visits to points of geological or other interest that we be¬ 
came acquainted and learned to enjoy the great week 
of the year. It was here that I first met L,e Conte, Cope, 
Major Powell, the one-armed explorer of the Colorado 
canyon, Brashear, who made his first lenses from tumbler 
bottoms and Wiley, the jolly farmer giant, facile prin¬ 
ce ps among men. 

I believe I first met Wiley at Buffalo in August, 1886. 
We visited Niagara together as part of a jolly crowd 
and had a happy day. Nearly every year for many years 
after I met Wiley at these meetings. I also met him 
elsewhere. He came to Easton nearly every year foi 
awhile to lecture to my students. The lecture room was 
large enough to hold the audience at first, but as he be¬ 
came better known we moved over to Pardee Hall into 


126 


A VISIT FROM THE WILEYS 


a room large enough to hold the crowd that came to 
enjoy the treat. Presently the “old man,” as we called 
him, was asked to go to Lehigh whenever he came to 
Lafayette. I always went up with him and listened 
again. His lectures were always new, never twice the 
same. 

On one occasion he wrote me asking whether he might 
spend an extra day with me and I gladly acceded. We 
rode all day through the hills and woods over Scott’s 
Mountain and had a jolly day. When the attempt to 
pass pure food legislation became strenuous Frear and 
I conspired in its behalf and carried our point. When 
he became President of the American Chemical Society 
he chose me as editor and we toiled together at the heavy 
task. Afterwards I printed and published his great work 
on Agricultural Chemical Analysis. In all this work and 
play he was the kind, indulgent older brother. 

For many years he led the lonely imperfect life of a 
bachelor until he had reached the ripe age of 62 when 
his love of many years yielded to his wishes and they 
were married. I shall never forget the glad smile on his 
face as my wife and I came up to congratulate them and 
he realized that we had traveled all the way from Easton 
to wish him joy. 

Upon a later occasion we visited Washington with a 
large party of chemists and, with many others were the 


A VISIT FROM THE WIEEYS 


127 


guests of Dr. and Mrs. Wiley at a dinner at the Raleigh. 
But we had the advantage of most of the other guests, 
for we were admitted behind the scenes before the dinner 
came off. Mrs. Wiley and Nan Pierce, Dr. Wiley’s Sec¬ 
retary, told us about some of the funny things that had 
occurred. Dr. Wiley was away from home and they 
were forced to make all the arrangements. They knew 
only a few of his friends and succeeded in inviting sev¬ 
eral dead people to the feast. 

Upon another occasion we were in Washington with 
a party of Rotarians and the Wileys invited us to dinner 
at their home in Ashmead Place. Here we met the 
Wiley boys, Harvey Jr. and John, for the first time, 
while my wife told us, to our great joy, how, by a series 
of amusing misunderstandings, she had narrowly escaped 
being a guest at one of Mrs. Harding’s private parties. 
In the evening we attended a literary soiree with Dr. 
and Mrs. Wiley and greatly enjoyed the papers read and 
the chaff that formed a part. It was a real literary treat. 

Then we learned that his eyesight was failing and 
that he was soon to be operated upon for cataract. The 
day of the operation passed and we had no news. We 
dare not telegraph for fear the operation had not suc¬ 
ceeded. Thus a week passed. At last we learned that 
he saw once more though not so well as of old. 


128 


A VISIT FROM THE WILEYS 


We saw Dr. Wiley again at the Golden Wedding of 
Dr. and Mrs. W. H. Nichols at Sherry's last winter. 
Dr. Wiley seemed well and in good spirits. We saw com¬ 
paratively little of him here because so many of his 
friends were present and each claimed a share of his 
time. 

Several months later a letter arrived telling us that 
the family expected to start for Cambridge, Mass., 
shortly, where Wiley was to attend the fiftieth reunion 
of his class at Harvard. They would arrive in Easton 
in the evening by auto and would spend the night with 
us. I immediately replied that the road up College Hill 
was closed for repairs and that they must telephone me 
on arrival and allow me to join and pilot them. 

Accordingly, at 8 P. M. the telephone rang and Mrs. 
Wiley's voice announced their arrival. They were dusty 
and tired and soon after dinner retired to rest. 

We have quite a good-sized house but the family is 
large and only two extra rooms were available. One of 
these contained a large wooden bedstead heavy and 
strong enough to support a hippopotamus; this was 
dedicated to Dr. and Mrs. Wiley. The other room had 
a large brass bedstead which had been used for many 
years. Originally it had been well and strong; but long 
continued use by our four stocky boys as a spring-board 
and general exercise ground had weakened our confi- 


A VISIT FROM THE WILEYS 


129 


dence in its ability to sustain heavy weights. We 
thought, however, it would surely sustain the two boys. 
After they had all retired and it was too late to inter¬ 
fere, from sundry movements and murmurings over¬ 
head, it became evident that a readjustment had taken 
place and that Dr. Wiley and his huskiest son were in 
the weak bed while Nan and the younger boy occupied 
the bed for elephants. We listened in dreadful suspense 
for a breakdown. Fortunately none came and the extra 
weight was safely carried. 

For ten days we heard nothing of the Wileys and then 
they drove up on their way home. They had had a won¬ 
derful time at Harvard and on the way home. On the 
way they stopped at a country hotel and John had 
climbed up to the peak of the roof and was unable to 
get down. Then he called to his father for help and that 
hard-hearted parent refused to assist him for some time 
but finally relented. 

Mrs. Hart had no help in the kitchen and the Doctor 
thought they had better not stop but I persuaded him 
otherwise. I said: “We want you to stay. We will let 
you help us and will dispense with all frills. I have so 
arranged that Mrs. Hart shall not be overworked and 
shall be able to enjoy your visit.” On that understanding 
they consented to stay. The next day was Thursday, 
the meeting day of our Rotary Club, and the Doctor, the 


130 


A VISIT FROM THE) WILEYS 


Wiley boys and my own four boys were my guests at the 
Rotary lunch. They made quite an array, and there was 
much quiet amusement as they filed in and sat down. 
After the lunch Dr. Wiley was called upon to speak and 
made us a short address—such a happy talk as only 
Wiley can make. 

In the meantime Mrs. Wiley and Dr. Kate De Witt 
Miesse, our family physician and a friend of Mrs. Wiley, 
and my wife, were dining at the Pomfret Club, guests of 
my wife. Behind the curtains that night I heard the 
story from my wife of how her two guests discoursed on 
woman’s rights while she sat and listened and enjoyed 
the fun. 

That night at dinner we had ice cream and cake for 
dessert, and the boys brought in the towering piece of 
cream fresh from the can. It towered above my wife 
as she sliced off the portions and finally toppled over 
on the platter. Mrs. Wiley had been watching it in ner¬ 
vous terror, and as it went over she screamed and 
shouted: “My soul and body!” much to our amusement. 
The Doctor informed us that for a moderate surprise she 
called: “My soul!” but great occasions called for: “My 
soul and body!” 

The next day was raining and we were not able to 
visit the farm as we had planned but spent the day at 
home resting. The following day was beautiful and we 


a visit from the wileys 13 i 

had an early breakfast that they might be soon on the 
road. The topic somehow shifted to the question of 
woman’s rights and the Doctor proceeded to tell us how, 
in pursuit of these rights, his wife had become a criminal 
and been hustled to the gaol while her devoted family 
were scouring the country to find her. 

They had been persecuting Mr. Wilson, he said, and 
merited their sad fate but he thought she had no business 
to leave three hopeless orphans stranded as she had. 
We all laughed and almost screamed with delight as the 
story proceeded. 

After breakfast the Doctor begged us to go part way 
with them. They expected to stop at Valley Forge and 
they wanted us to go too. We finally agreed to go. At 
Doylestown my auto shed a tire and we sent for the 
garage man while we lunched in the shade of the trees. 
It was determined to leave my machine while I was to 
ride with my wife or with the Wileys. Then Mrs. 
Wiley cornered me and said I must not strike or push a 
lady while the Doctor paid the garage man. 

When I tried to get in my wife’s car I found all the 
boys there; of course they wanted to be together, so I 
got in with the Wileys. We drove around Valley Forge 
Park and enjoyed the beauty of the spot and reminded 
ourselves of the poor soldiers, freezing and starving the 
winter away, and proceeded to climb the tower. John 


132 


A VISIT FROM THE WITEYS 


went ahead and reached the very top before his mother 
spied him and then she once more screamed: “My soul 
and body!” 

My boys were very fond of Mrs. Wiley. So was I 
until I became aware of the disaffection she had stirred 
up. Previous to this visit my wife had been obedient, 
as all wives should be, but now she began to speak up. 
She told us Mrs. Wiley said that every wife who took 
care of her man and his children was self supporting and 
had a right to share his wealth if he had any. This is 
dreadful doctrine as all but the depraved must agree. I 
am wondering whether we had better have Mrs. Wiley 
again ? 


In the Days of the Roses 


In the days of good King Harry the Sixth there was 
bitter strife in all the land between the houses of York 
and Lancaster. The adherents of one house oppressed, 
robbed and even murdered the adherents of the other. 
Political hatred grew apace and filled the land with civil 
wars. Houses were burned, churches were robbed and 
cattle were lifted. No one was sure of his life or prop¬ 
erty. Landless men were organized as bands of robbers 
making the highways unsafe. As a direct consequence of 
this waste of life and treasure the French lands won by 
Edward the Third, his son, the Black Prince, and Harry 
the Fifth were rapidly lost by the incapable Duke of Suf¬ 
folk until only Calais and a strip of territory in the south 
of France remained. 

With all his goodness the sixth Henry was but a feeble 
king, not ruling but ruled by his imperious wife and 
rugged, warlike barons. These were the days in which 
printing was invented, when armor was becoming useless 
before the advance of gunpowder and the introduction 
of firearms. The feudal system had entered upon its 
decay; superstition reigned but Lollardism under 
Wyckliffe had begun to undermine Roman Catholicism. 
The results of that terrible scourge, The Black Death, 
which swept Europe in 1347 carrying off a third of the 


134 


IN THE DAYS of the: ROSES 


population, were still felt in the scarcity of labor and 
higher wages. 

Twenty miles northwest of London in the little town 
of St. Albans a fire broke out one day in June, 1440, in an 
old house in Dagnal Lane. It was a poor quarter and 
there was a loud outcry as the inhabitants began carry¬ 
ing their scanty belongings to safer places. The watch 
came clattering down the street with their leather fire 
buckets and formed a line to the nearest well which was 
soon bailed dry. No attempt was made to save the 
burning house; efforts were confined to keeping the fire 
from spreading. Suddenly a woman screamed: “there 
are children in the house!” 

“Body o’ me,” said Jed Fenchurch to his wife, “gie me 
thy apron!” Wrapping it around his face he dashed 
through the half open door, out of which smoke was 
pouring and presently emerged, choking, panting and 
cursing with a child on each arm, both unconscious. 

“Thou art surely a brave one,” said his wife, Lisbeth, 
proudly. 

“Pook, woman!” said Jed, “should I let un die? Body 
o’ me!” 

But she was busy with the children, washing their 
faces with her apron and giving them water to drink. 
Presently the children struggled back to consciousness 


IN THE DAYS OE THE ROSES 


135 


and began to cry, first the boy, then the girl. He might 
be three years old, but the girl was only a baby. 

'‘I wanth mine nurth,” sobbed the boy. 

“He hath no hurt/’ said Lisbeth, “but, oh Jed, thy poor 
hands!” 

They were, indeed, badly scorched and painful. His 
hair was singed, his eyebrows gone and his ears blistered 
but no serious harm had been suffered. When Lisbeth 
had attended to his burns she picked up the children 
and carried them to her house hard by. 

On the morrow, when the ashes were raked the bones 
of a woman were discovered. The landlord of the 
Checquers said he had let the house but the day before 
to one Mary Smith who had paid a month’s rent in ad¬ 
vance. He knew nothing of her nor whence she came. 
Jed and Lisbeth kept the children; they were childless 
and well to do. There was no formal adoption. The 
children were supposed to be brother and sister. He 
said his name was Don, which was interpreted as John, 
and that her name was Banch, which was interpreted as 
Blanche. 

Jed Fenchurch was an armorer, which a writer of that 
day has called the least mean of mean occupations. His 
shop at the back of the house, in a building entered by a 
passage way alongside. Here the children delighted to 
play and John helped as he was able as he grew stronger. 


136 


IN THE DAYS OE THE ROSES 


Both attended the Abbey school and were well educated 
for those days, when the scholar was a man who could 
read and write. 

John naturally heard much about feats of arms and 
was taught at first hand the uses of arms and armor. He 
learned to use the long bow, and as he developed into 
young manhood, and his arm grew long and his muscles 
tough and strong, he drew his arrows to the nock. This 
weapon was then the arm of most reliance and its de¬ 
velopment, together with the use of dismounted cavalry, 
developed by Edward III and the Black Prince, the cause 
of the English strength. 

Neither was Blanche neglected. Her foster mother, 
Eisbeth, had also been foster mother to the great Earl 
of Warwick and had learned much of gentle ways in the 
great castle. Many of these she imparted to Blanche, 
and was much blamed by her gossips for raising the 
child in ways above her station. 

There came a day when the great Earl visited his 
foster mother. His visit was marked by festivities given 
by the holy fathers of the Abbey in his honor, where 
barrels of beer were broached and beeves were roasted 
whole. The Earl was a tall, well-built man of handsome 
presence and kindly mien, much beloved by gentle and 
common. He first greeted and kissed his old nurse; the 
children were then presented. John’s height and reach 


IN THE DAYS 0E THE ROSES 


137 


of arm earned his commendation. “I will even take him 
into my service, an you wish,” said he. 

“Right gladly will he come, your highness,” said Lis- 
beth, “you are good to your old nurse and her ward; 
God will reward you.” 

“Not so,” said the Earl, “I but find a fine bowman.” 

“ ‘Tis a fine deed, natheless, John,” said Lisbeth when 
the Earl had departed, “and but shows the kind heart; 
but thou art the lucky boy! In all England lives no 
greater; and he will watch and guard thee; thou art in¬ 
deed fortunate. Do I not know and love him ?” 

“Surely,” said John, “I must do my best, more I can¬ 
not. Truly, thou art good to me.” 

“Alas, and shall I see thee no more? Wilt thou in¬ 
deed leave us ?” said Blanche, tears filling her eyes. 

“Not so, sweetheart,” John replied, “when I go I shall 
soon return. How could I forsake thee, silly?” 

The summons to arms was not long delayed. One 
evening in early May an express arrived at the Checquers 
and enquired for Jed Fenchurch. He was directed to 
the house on Dagnal Lane and informed Jed that he 
came from Warwick with directions to the bowmen, 
spearmen and men at arms to assemble at Royston and 
there await the arrival of the Duke of York and his 


own men. 


138 IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 

There were but few Yorkists in St. Albans, but a 
party of bowmen, including Jed, John and three others 
were on their way afoot early the next morning, while 
the messenger continued his journey towards London. 

“ ‘Tis thretty good mile/’ said fat Steve Balderstone 
in a thin voice, “I mind me when I walked as much in 
a day with good King Harry the Fift, but I were young 
then and light of foot. Truly the Duke moveth but 
slowly and we needs must wait at Royston. Why then 
shall we go apace ?” 

“Pook, thou elephant! the duke moveth at the gallop 
and the Earl also. Tarry not or ye may rue it,” said Jed. 
“Listen not to this squeaker. Body o’me! we mun go 
apace.” 

“I will blow thee to York with one puff, thou pot 
mender,” squeaked Steve. 

“Truly, thou art a fine blower,” said Jed. 

“Tarry a bit!” said John to Jabez Stout in a whisper, 
“see but the birds.” 

And, in truth, over a wood to the right the birds were 
wheeling as the boys fell back and fitted an arrow to the 
string. From the wood three men on horseback drove 
rapidly into the road and galloped toward them. 

“They are robbers,” said John, “take thou the one on 
the left” and their bows twanged and the arrows whistled. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


139 


The horesman on the right was transfixed by John’s 
shaft which pierced his right shoulder, and he fell from 
his horse which turned and fled. Jabez was not so for¬ 
tunate; his shaft flew not so truly, but it caught the 
skin of the left leg of the rider and imbedded itself in the 
horse beneath which screamed and lashed out in agony, 
throwing the rider. The third horseman turned and 
galloped away. The rider of the stricken horse crawled 
into the bushes from which he was quickly hauled and 
despatched, after which the men gathered around the 
man desperately wounded. 

“Mercy! mercy! Sir John,” shrieked the stricken man 
looking at John, “Spare me! spare me! I am not fit to 
die!” 

Thou wilt die, sure enough,” said Steve, “thy right 
lung is shot through, but why call him Sir John? ’Tis 
but John Fenchurch.” 

“ ‘Tis the ghost of Sir John Jernyngan whom I stabbed 
at Bordeaux. Mercy! mercy!” 

“He raves,” said Steve, “get along, John, out of his 
sight.” 

“Teave him with me,” said Jed. “I would speak with 
him further.” 

“ ’Tis as he told thee,” said Jed to the dying man when 
they were alone. “It was John Fenchurch.” 


10 


140 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


“I tell thee no!” he replied. “ 'Twas Sir John Jemyn- 
gan or his ghost.” Thinkest thou I know not mine old 
enemy who stole my honors and my bride? Did I not see 
the old Duke of Warwick knight him at Savignies?” 
This was followed by a gush of blood as his spirit fled. 
Jed dragged the body to the roadside, rifled the pockets 
and followed the others, deep in thought. 

II. In the Forest 

They camped with others at Royston until the arrival 
of the three Richards: Richard of York, Richard of 
Warwick and Richard of Salisbury, on May 20. Two 
days later found the Yorkists encamped outside St. 
Albans, with the Lancastrians in the town. After much 
parleying the Yorkists advanced to the attack. The 
Duke of York led on one wing, the Earl of Salisbury on 
the other, while John was with the Earl of Warwick in 
the center. The palisades at this point were old and 
rotten and the ditch dry. They were soon passed and 
the defenders driven back or killed. 

“Come with me, Jabez,” said John as they advanced, 
“I know a way.” 

“Surely, at the side of the house next the Checquers, 
the side door at the stairway where we met Rhoda,” said 
Jabez. 

“Aye,” said John, “but go quietly along by the bushes 
that we be not seen.” 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES I4I 

But they were seen, and an arrow found lodging in 
Jabez’ breast, who fell, while John reached and passed 
behind a projecting buttress that hid a small doorway. 
This opened on a stair, up which he passed to a window 
fronting on Checquers Street where he posted himself 
and began shooting at the Lancastrians in the street 
below. He had been closely followed by numerous 
archers and several men at arms. The archers posted 
themselves at the other windows while the men at arms 
broke into the rooms below, killed those posted there and 
issued forth into the street from the doorway. Presently 
Richard of Warwick issued forth into the street and led 
the fighting while other Yorkist archers broke into the 
houses on the other side of the street and shot from the 
windows, all the while shouting: “A Warwick! a War¬ 
wick!” Here you saw one fall with his brains dashed 
out, there another with a broken arm, a third with a 
cut throat and a fourth with a pierced chest, and the 
whole street was full of dead corpses . 1 

As the Lancastrians broke and fled in confusion, John 
remembered Lisbeth and Blanche, unprotected. There 
was his place of duty. Straightway he descended and 
pushed his way along the crowded road to the house in 
Dagnal Lane in time to head the rabble who, crazed with 
blood and drink, had begun to sack the town. 

1 Whethamstede, Quoted by M. E. Christie in “ Henry VI.” 


142 


IN THE DAYS OE THE ROSES 


‘‘Come with me!” he called to the frightened pair, 
bursting in at the door, “but bring warm clothing; we 
must even sleep afield this night.” So saying he hurriedly 
filled a basket, caught up some wraps and started north¬ 
ward toward an angle of the palisade and ditch. 

The flight of the vanquished was in three directions: 
Northwest toward Dunstable, along Watling Street, 
North toward Harpenden and southwest toward Wat¬ 
ford. 

Breaking down some palisades, John helped the women 
over the ditch and the three ran toward the shelter of 
the forest. This gained, he helped them climb into the 
arms of an ancient beech, where they lay concealed while 
the pursued and pursuers thundered by down the road 
on either side, and a scattering few stole through the 
underbrush below and around them. 

As the night fell it grew colder, and Blanche crept into 
his arms, laid her head confidingly against his shoulder 
and slept. The sleep of all three was, however, some¬ 
what broken by the noises made by the peasantry search¬ 
ing with torches for the bodies of the slain. 

In the morning, all danger having passed, John helped 
the women down and the three returned to their home 
which was in great disorder and bare of everything of 
value. It was a sad homecoming for the women, but it 
was useless to repine, so they set to work to clean the 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


143 


house and put it in order. John was informed that the 
Earl of Warwick desired his immediate attendance. “Is 
it true,” the Earl demanded, “that you led the archers 
up the stairway?” 

“Yes, your Lordship,” said John, “I knew of the door 
and the stairway of old.” 

“It was a great deed and shall not be forgotten, choose 
thy reward!” 

“To serve your Lordship,” said John. 

“Well said,” returned the Earl, “thou shalt be my 
page.” 

“An your Lordship please, I would first bury Jabez 
Short who was killed beside me.” 

“So do,” replied the Earl, “I will send for thee anon.” 

John encountered Jed on his return; “do thou look 
after the women folk,” said Jed, “I must straight to 
London with the Earl.” 

That morning the Duke of Norfolk marched into St. 
Albans with 6,000 men and the army started for London 
with the wounded King, who had been struck on the 
neck with an arrow. 

Several days passed by before Jed could reach the 
Earl who was much engaged. In the meantime he was 
able to reach the Countess, Anne Beauchamp, who was 
the daughter of Richard Beauchamp, the former Duke, 


144 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


and sister of Henry, Duke of Warwick, from whom she 
had inherited. 

The Countess informed Jed that she remembered Sir 
John Jernyngan, who was still living and well. He was 
a fine, upstanding man, tall, straight, with dark, some¬ 
what curly hair and blue eyes. She remembered well 
how her father, who was the very flower of chivalry, and 
a gallant soldier, had knighted him for his gallant deeds 
on the field at Savignies. Lady Jernyngan was the 
daughter of Sir Everard Herbert of Bromhill in Here¬ 
ford. Her hand had also been sought by one Victor 
Bozen, a soldier of fortune whose description was iden¬ 
tical with that of the dead robber. It was true that he 
had the assurance to demand her hand in marriage, but 
the lady had openly scorned him, and in revenge he had 
stabbed her successful suitor who had never harmed him. 
She rejoiced that his son—for she doubted not John was 
his son—had unknowingly revenged the foul deed. 

Romance, then as now, greatly appeals to the gentle 
mind. Anne became greatly interested in John and took 
him under her special protection. She became his ad¬ 
vocate with the Earl, where he needed no advocate, and 
shielded him from the jibes and petty tyrannies of the 
pages at Warwick—her own castle—where he spent 
eighteen months perfecting himself in arms and chivalry. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


145 


On his first visit home after a six months’ absence, 
Blanche flew at him, threw herself into his arms and 
kissed him. 

“I have news for thee, sweetheart,” said John, “my 
Lady has discovered” — 

“Well,” said Blanche, “what hath she discovered?” 

“I had better not tell thee, ’twill make thee unhappy.” 

“Nay, tell me!” 

“Give me first six kisses!” 

“There then, thou silly. Now tell me!” 

“My, thy lips are sweet! She thinks thou art no sister 
of mine.” 

“Oh John, how dreadful!” 

“So I thought at first, but not now. We may wed.” 

“Oh no! How could we?” 

“We may and will. Now give me some more kisses.” 

“Not so. If I am no sister why kiss? Too many have 
I given thee already.” 

“My Lady says thou art Blanche Wychyngham, the 
daughter of Sir Edmund Wychyngham of Norfolk, and 
that we were stolen and carried off by my nurse who 
was a sister of that Victor Bozen I slew on the way to 
Royston. He had a grudge against thy father also.” 

“Oh John! how dreadful. I cannot bear it.” And she 
ran off to her foster mother in tears. 


146 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


III. The Warrior and Lover 

On the morrow came a letter bidding John join the 
Earl at Calais. Shortly thereafter Blanche left St. 
Albans to visit her father and sisters. 

Among the Paston Letters is one from John Jernyngan 
to his cousin, Margaret Paston, which is here reproduced 
with all the quaint spelling of those days: 

Unto my ryght wurchipfell Cosyn, Marget Paston, this 
lettre be delyvered in haste. 

Ryght wurchipful and my moste beste beloved maystres and 
cosyn, I recommaund me unto you as lowly as I may, evermor 
desyring to here of your gode welfar; the whiche I beseche 
Almyzthy Jesus to preserve you and kepe you to his plesur, and 
to your gracious herts desyre. 

And yf it plese you to here of my welfar, I was in gode 
hele at the makyng of this lettre, blessed be God. 

Praying you that it plese you for to send me word yf my 
fadyr wer at Norwiche with you at this Trenite Masse or no, 
and how the matyr doth betwene my Maystres Blawnche 
Wychynham and me, and yf ze supose that it shall be brought 
a bowte or no; and how ze fele my fadyr, yf he be wele wyll- 
yng thereto or no; praying you lowly that I may be recomaund 
lowly unto my maystres Arblastres wyfe, and unto my Maystres 
Blawnche, her dowzther, specially. 

Ryght wurchipfull cosyn, yf it please you tor to her of suche 
tydings as we have her, the basset [ embassay ] of Burgoyne 
schall come to Calleys the Saturday 2 eftyr Corpus Christi day, 
as men say v. hondred horse of hem. Moreover on Trenite 
Sonday, 3 in the mornyng, came tydings unto my Lord of War- 
wyke that ther were xxviij te sayle of Spanyards on the se, 
and wherof ther was xvj. grete schippis of forecasted; and 

2 June 3rd. 

3 May 28th. 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


147 


then my Lord went and manned fyve schippis of forecasted, 
and iii. carvells, and iiij. spynnes [pinnaces], and on the Mon¬ 
day, 4 on the mornyng eftyr Trenite Sonday, we met to gedyr 
afore Caleis, at iiij. at the clokke in the mornyng, and fawz 
thet gedyr till x. at the clokke; and ther we toke vj. of her 
[their] schippis, and they slowe of oure men about iiij** [four 
score] and hurt a ij. hondred of us ryght sore; and ther wer 
slayne on theyr parte abowte xij** [twelve score], and hurt a 
v. hondred of them. 

And haped me, at the fyrste abordyng of us, we toke a 
schippe of iij c [300] ton, and I was lefte therin and xxiij. 
men with me; and thei fawzthe so sor 5 that our men wer 
fayne to leve hem, 8 and then come they and aborded the schippe 
that I was in, and ther I was taken, and was a prisoner with 
them vj houris, and was delyvered agayne for theyr men that 
wer taken befome. And as men sayne, ther was not so gret a 
batayle upon the se this xl. wyntyr. And for sothe, we wer 
wele and trewly bette; and my Lord hathe sent for mor 
scheppis, and lyke to fyzthe to gedyr agayne in haste. 

Nomor I write unto you at this time, but that it please you 
for to recomaund me unto my ryght reverent and wurchipfull 
cosyn your husband, and and myn ownkll Gournay, and to myn 
awnte his wyfe, and to alle gode maysters and frends where it 
schall plese yow; and eftyr the writyng I have from you, I schall 
be at you in alle haste. 

Wretyn on Corpus Christi day in gret haste, be your owne 
umble servant and cosyn, 

John Jernyngan. 

The engagement with the Spaniards related in this 
letter was looked upon as a victory by the English. The 
next year there was another naval battle in which after 

4 May 29th. 

5 “For” in Fenn; seemingly a printer's error, as the word is “sore” 
in the modern version. 

9 Here, according to Fenn, the words “and go the” occur in the 
original, struck out. 


148 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


a running two days’ chase three out of five Genoese and 
Spanish ships were captured and brought into Calais, and 
Warwick became a naval hero to his countrymen. 

On June 24, 1460, with Salisbury and March, Warwick 
landed at Sandwich, which Fauconberg had previously 
captured and held for the Duke of York. John Jernyn- 
gan, as we must now call him, was of course of the party. 
On July 2 they were in London, and on the 10th their 
army faced the army of the Red Rose in the meadows 
near Northampton. 

The King’s position was well protected by the crude 
artillery of that day, but there was a heavy rain storm 
and the pieces could not be discharged. The Lord Grey 
of Ruthven turned traitor to the King and assisted the 
advance of the young Earl of March who soon opened 
the way for the Yorkists. Buckingham, Shrewsbury, 
Beaumont, Egremont and Sir William Lucy with three 
hundred other Lords, knights and squires were killed 
and Henry was captured and taken to London. 

In 1461, John was present at the rout of the Yorkists 
at the second battle of St. Albans and escaped with dif¬ 
ficulty. In March of the same year he also took part in 
the decisive battle of Towton where the hopes of Henry 
the sixth and his Queen found their grave. This was a 
fiercely fought field where the mallets of lead crushed 
many a skull. In the nick of time the troops of the Duke 


IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 


149 


of Norfolk arrived and the Lancastrians broke and fled. 
John had been in the front of the fighting, towering 
above the heads of the other knights and esquires with 
the exception of the new King Edward IV who was a 
mighty man and handsome. The slaughter was ter¬ 
rible. “No Quarter!” was the order, and most of those 
captured were promptly beheaded. 

After the pursuit was at an end John returned to 
Saxton where he found the King who said: 

“Thou art a valiant soldier. Kneel!” 

Then he smote John gently on the back with his sword 
and said: 

“Rise, Sir John Jernyngan! The field is won. Go 
now to thy people in Norfolk.” 

It may be imagined that this command of the King was 
promptly obeyed. When John arrived he discovered that 
the news of his new honor had preceded him. There 
were great rejoicings in which Blanche participated. To 
her he seemed a different man—older, more sedate, of 
greater knowledge, more to be admired and respected. 
She began to wonder what were his thoughts? and 
above all what he thought of her, but he gave at first no 
sign. In fact the slaughter after the battle had sobered 
him. It was borne in upon him that the King was cruel 
and that trouble must come. From boy he had become 
a man, accustomed to command and self-reliant. Like 


150 IN THE DAYS OF THE ROSES 

the moth near the flame Blanche was attracted and then 
repelled. She began to dream, and he figured in her 
dreams. She was a beautiful girl, much courted and a 
trifle spoiled, but John seemed to her stronger, hand¬ 
somer and better than her other men friends. He never 
wavered in kindness but said little. She became bolder 
and he met her advances. Soon she found herself hope¬ 
lessly in love. , 

In those days love was not alone the concern of the 
lovers. Fathers and mothers, often overlords, and even 
sometimes the King, must be consulted. When all these 
tedious matters had been arranged there was a great 
wedding at Warwick Castle, where Anne insisted the 
ceremony must be performed. The Bishop of Canter¬ 
bury said mass and married the couple in the presence 
of the King, the Earl of Warwick and many of the 
nobility. 

After their marriage several years of peace followed. 
Then more strife and blood with the struggle between 
Edward and Warwick, the return of Henry for a brief 
period, the fight at Barnet and the death of Warwick, the 
accession of Richard III and his brief and bloody career 
ending in the fight and his death on Bosworth Field. 
With the accession of Henry VII, the wars of the roses 
were at an end; peace returned and our story ends. 


The Red Devil 

In the year 1903 I bought my first automobile. It 
was a Ford. Even as early as that the inimitable Henry 
was at work; but this car was quite unlike the modern 
Ford. It had double opposed cylinders placed horizon¬ 
tally on either side of the crankshaft which was in the 
middle and in the fore and aft axis of the machine. The 
engine was said to develop eight horsepower—perhaps 
it did. There was a front seat for two passengers and 
two corner seats for two more in the small tonneau 
back of it. The tonneau was entered by a narrow door 
in the middle of the back; below it was a step to enable 
the passengers to get up and down. There was no cover. 
The car was painted a brilliant red. 

I was very much elated over my new car which had 
been carefully tested before I bought it. The salesman, 
who was also the mechanic, drove me over all the rough 
roads and steep hills in the vicinity. I drove it down 
one of these steep hills myself to test the brakes. Under 
all these tests the car behaved very well, but I soon 
found that a good-sized repair bill was a necessary part 
of the program. I also found myself gaining a pro¬ 
found respect for the mechanic, that is for some me¬ 
chanics. I also discovered that it was necessary to spend 
three hours looking for the source of any trouble and 
but three minutes in fixing it. 


152 


THE RED DEVIE 


There was a beautiful drive along the river. Every 
evening after my working day was over and I had had 
supper (we did not call it dinner) I was in the habit of 
driving several miles down the river and back before 
the night shut in. In case I lingered and the darkness 
overtook me there was a brilliant headlight in the front 
of the car making the pathway as light as day. Usually 
some young lady of my acquaintance accompanied me 
on these drives. I was also fond of riding on Sunday 
afternoons. I asked Mrs. Henry to go with me one 
Sunday afternoon but she refused—she said it was 
wicked to take rides on Sunday. 

“You might say that if I were driving a horse or an 
ass or anything that was my neighbors, Mrs. Henry,” 
said I, “but I am driving a soulless machine and it be¬ 
longs to me.” 

“Well, I don’t know very well just what the ins and 
outs are,” she replied, “but I don’t feel right when I go 
out driving on Sunday.” 

Mr. Henry smiled—I knew he did not feel that much 
respect for Sunday—but when I asked him to go he de¬ 
clined ; said he had a lot of writing to do, but I thought 
he was afraid. 

I was determined to go and did not want to go alone. 
There was a baker’s daughter living on the same street. 
She was a very pretty girl, with a beautiful complexion 


THE RED DEVIL 


153 


and wonderful eyes. She had a smile and a kind word 
for everybody. When I asked her whether she would 
like to go she said: “yes she would, very much.” Now, 
that is what I like in a girl; I like a girl who knows her 
own mind. 

Sally was a quiet girl, usually, but that afternoon she 
had a great deal to say. When she spoke she smiled at 
me, and she did not say a single unkind thing during 
the ride. I was very much pleased with Sally. I thought 
it would be nice to have her around all the time. I de¬ 
termined to take her again that evening; her mother told 
me, however, that she had gone to church with Jim 
Barkley. Jim was a bank cashier. He was getting 
a good salary and dressed very well. I looked at Mrs. 
Lunn with considerable interest. She was a very nice 
woman and her complexion was good, for she lived over 
a bakery, and spent much of her time in it. I had noticed 
that bakers and singers always had good complexions 
and were fat. Mrs. Lunn was fat, too—very fat. As I 
looked at her I said to myself: “that is how Sally will 
look in a few years,” and a chill stole over me. 

I was living at a boarding house at this time. Several 
other members of the college faculty also boarded there. 
The food was pretty good but we were not very well 
satisfied. The dining table was rather small and was so 
full of dishes that the coffee pot was placed on the floor 


154 


the: re;d devii. 


alongside of the hostess. We had pie at every meal— 
a fresh pie at lunch and supper, and pieces of left-over 
pie for breakfast. Of course we need not eat pie, but 
so much pie was disconcerting. That coffee pot on the 
floor was disconcerting also. One of the boarders dis¬ 
turbed us, too. He was a minister and a very good young 
man, but when he wanted a piece of pie he looked straight 
at it, like a pointer dog, until someone asked him to 
have a piece. I had boarded for two years and I was 
growing tired of boarding. My position as a teacher in 
Rochambeau College was pleasant but I was growing 
restless. 

The next Saturday I started to drive my car to 
Trenton. I was fond of reading, and it was my custom 
to visit Traver’s book store in Trenton or Leary’s in 
Philadelphia and purchase several books at a time. 
These second hand books answered my purpose per¬ 
fectly and were much cheaper than new books. Some¬ 
times I also attended vendues in, the country and bought 
books, but this was not usually very satisfactory. 

I had driven about a mile down the river when I over¬ 
took two girls traveling afoot in the same direction. One 
of them was very pretty. I asked them to get in. They 
looked doubtfully at each other but finally accepted my 
invitation. The oldest one told me her name was Fanny 
Hilltop and the pretty girl was her younger sister, Mary. 


THE RED DEVIE 


155 


Mary was rather quiet but seemed very pleasant. She 
smiled very often and when she smiled she showed a very 
pretty set of very white teeth. I had always admired 
white teeth and pretty girls and Mary seemed very nice. 
We came to a cross road very soon and the girls said they 
must get down there, they lived about a mile up the side 
road. I told them I was out for a ride, which was true 
enough, and that I might as well take them home, but 
they warned me the road was rough and hilly. 

I turned into the by-road and though it was rough 
and rocky got along very well for over half a mile; then 
we came to a short, very steep hill. The car snorted 
and puffed and finally stopped. I let it back down, put 
on full speed and went at it again. It stuck fast again. 
By this time the girls had grown nervous backing down 
the hill, so I pulled the car to one side of the road and we 
walked to their house up several hills and directly on top 
of a mountain overlooking two beautiful valleys, one on 
either side. Their house was a very pretty one painted 
white. I told Mary that they had a right to the name of 
Hilltop but she said I had misunderstood, it was Hill- 
pot. “Oh,” said I, “that must be a mistake. I believe 
one of your ancestors was a poor speller and twisted 
the spelling.” 

The girls invited me to come in and rest or at least to 
sit down on the porch awhile. I chose the latter. The 


11 


the: red devil 


156 

mother came out after awhile and I was introduced. She 
was a pleasant-looking, motherly soul, quick-motioned 
and rather thin. Her face was seamed with fine wrinkles 
and her hands showed signs of hard usage. I liked her 
looks and I liked Mary, too. They invited me to stay 
to dinner and I accepted. Fanny went to help her 
mother with the dinner while Mary entertained me. The 
father and a half grown boy came in after awhile. 

Old man Hillpot looked me over pretty sharply, and 
I thought I knew just what he was thinking, but I 
wasn’t thinking that at all. The boy looked at Mary and 
then at me and then he grinned and Mary’s eyes snapped. 
I knew what he thought and what she thought. The old 
lady had a pleasant smile on her face as if she never 
thought at all, but I knew that she was doing a heap more 
thinking than all the others put together; for she was 
figuring out what each one thought and then what she 
should do herself so that everything should come out all 
right. I was getting to like the old lady. 

After dinner Mary and I went out on the porch. The 
old lady and Fanny washed the dishes. The old man 
and the boy went off to milk the cows but the boy winked 
at Mary before he started and her eyes snapped again. 
After we had talked awhile I excused myself to get a 
drink in the kitchen. The old lady was washing the 
dishes. She had a dish pan full of soapy water and a 


THE REP DEVIE 


157 


dish cloth. First she scraped all the dishes as clean as 
possible; then she put them in the soapy water and 
rubbed them with the cloth; then she put them into 
another pan full of very hot water, took them out and 
laid them on the table. I got a towel and wiped them for 
her. She said: 

“This isn’t the first time you wiped dishes.’’ 

“How do you know?” I replied. 

“Because you washed your hands first, and you don’t 
touch the dishes with your hands.” 

“Yes, I said, “I used to help my mother.” 

“Is your mother living?” she asked. 

“No,” I answered, “she died two years ago.” 

“Oh, you poor boy,” she said; and she looked at me 
very sorrowfully. 

Mary had come into the kitchen by this time but I 
thought she seemed somewhat bored. Pretty soon the 
old man and the boy came back and we all went out on 
the porch and had a real folksy talk. The boy was very 
much interested in the college and asked me a great 
many questions about it. He said he thought of going 
to college if it didn’t cost too much. I told him it would 
be all right to go to college but I hoped after he got out 
he would come back and help his father farm. He said 
he didn’t know about that and grinned at the old man; 
but the old man seemed very quiet; he just sat and 


158 


THE RED DEVIL 


listened; sometimes I thought he seemed a little sad. He 
appeared to be very fond of Fanny; he often looked at 
her, and when he did a pleasant look came over his face. 

The old lady asked me to come again, real cordially, 
and then we all shook hands and I started off. 

It was beginning to get dark when I reached the car. 
I was just ready to turn the crank when I heard some 
one say: “Get up Billy.” I looked up and found a pretty 
girl in a falling top was trying to make her horse pass 
the machine. He was frightened and wouldn’t go and 
the girl seemed to be frightened too. 

It was the law in those days that when a person 
driving a horse met an auto and held up a hand, the auto 
driver must drive to the side of the road, stop his car 
and lead the horse past the machine. So I went to the 
horse’s head and led him past the machine. When we 
had gone a short distance up the road I asked the girl 
whether she could drive him now? She said she was 
afraid of him, he might run away. She didn’t like to 
drive anyhow but there was no one to drive her that 
afternoon so she had hitched up the horse herself. I 
told her I would drive her home if it was not too far. 
She said her house was only half a mile up the road, so 
I got in and took the reins. The horse was old and stiff, 
but as his nose was pointed toward home and oats he 
made steady progress and we soon arrived. I had in- 


THE RED DEVIL 


159 


troduced myself to the lady who informed me that her 
name was Homer, that she taught school in the neighbor¬ 
hood and boarded at the farm house to which we were 
going. I remarked that Horner was a rural name and 
smelled of the dairy at which she managed to crack a 
smile. We had come by a side road at the last, down into 
a valley, over a bridge and up the other side to the farm 
house. 

The farmer came out and held the horse while I 
helped the lady out. By this time the mother and her 
two daughters, Sarah and Jane Oldit, had come out and 
been introduced. We sat on the porch for awhile and 
then I started for home once more murmuring: Hilltop, 
Hillpot, Horner, Oldit! 

II 

Rochambeau College was denominational and of the 
blue Presbyterian order, under the care of the Synod. 
This connection was, however, almost purely theoretical 
and we were very much left alone to our own devices 
so long as no attempt was made by the President or mem¬ 
bers of the Faculty to blow loud heretical trumpets. 
Most of the members of the Board of Trustees were 
good fellows, mildly interested in the church and very 
much interested in educating young men. This real in¬ 
terest was manifested in an unmistakeable manner by 


i6o 


THE RED DEVIE 


their steady contributions to the College finances which 
at this time were not in too flourishing a condition. Not 
a few of the Trustees were depriving themselves of 
luxuries and even necessities in order that the Faculty 
might have decent living conditions. Not all the mem¬ 
bers of the Faculty appreciated this, but I did. Most of 
the members of our Board were earnest men worthy of 
respect and I, for one, did thoroughly respect them. The 
President, Dr. Camden, was a genial old chap, prone to 
discover all sorts of excellencies in the members of his 
Faculty and active in proclaiming them to the Board and 
to the world. He used the same methods with the stu¬ 
dents and was able to rule without despotism. 

Some of his methods were, however quite near the 
border line which divides the good from the bad, and 
aroused the condemnation of some more rigid members 
of the Faculty who were rich enough to be independent. 
In most cases his makeshift measures were made neces¬ 
sary by lack of funds, and were, therefore, forgivable. 

On my return home I found a letter awaiting me, and 
next morning, after my first class had recited I went to 
see the President. He came peering into the room with 
a frown on his face. On recognizing me his face lighted 
up and he advanced with both hands open and a beaming 
face. 

“My dear Brown! I am so glad to see you.” 


THE RED DEVIL 


161 


“I came over, Doctor,” said I, “to see whether you 
would be so good as to advise me? I have just had an 
offer from Ashton University, and am undecided what I 
had better do. I like my work very much here but they 
have offered me more money.” 

“It is very good of you, Brown, to come to me at once 
and I appreciate it. I should be very sorry to have you 
leave, and if you will tell me whether a small addition to 
your salary will induce you to stay I will ask the Trus¬ 
tees to add. let us say, $200.00 to your allowance. But 
now, my dear fellow I must ask you to do me a favor. 
You know that Professor Last is to leave us at the end 
of the year and I want you to teach Metallurgy'. 
Only two lectures a week for one term, you know ?” 

“But, Doctor, I am not posted on Metallurgy.” 

“Oh, but I feel sure you can do excellently well. It 
is very simple. You put the ore and fuel into a furnace, 
light the fire and there you are. And Brown! now we 
have settled that, I want you to take tea with me to¬ 
morrow evening. I must try to see more of you. I 
must see that you are taken care of.” 

“I laughed, thanked the Doctor, said I would come, 
and took my leave. 

The next evening six people sat down at the Presi¬ 
dent’s table: the Doctor and his wife, his niece, Kitty 
Camden and her brother Searles, Miss Hetty Poiret and 


THE RED DEVIL 


162 

myself. Kitty Camden was tall and stately while Hetty 
Poiret was quite small, with a rather shy manner and a 
sweet smile. Searles was younger than his sister, rather 
boyish in manner but a nice ingenuous lad. He was tall 
like his sister and nervous; his hands twitched, and he 
threw out his head from time to time as if his collar 
hurt him. 

“There are several ages represented here,” said the 
Doctor, “I think I must tell my frog story.” 

“Oh, no, Henry!” said his wife. 

“Do, Doctor!” I broke in, “I have never heard it, and 
I like your stories.” 

“There, Helen,” said the Doctor, “you see one person 
likes my stories.” 

“We all like them, Doctor,” said Hetty Poiret.” 

“Well,” he began, “there is a place down below Phila¬ 
delphia where the Schuylkill empties into the Delaware. 
The shores are low, flat and marshy. Tall grass grows 
down to the river’s edge; and here the tiny little frogs 
gather in the shallows as evening falls and peep shrilly: 
Schuyl—kill! Schuyl—kill! Schuyl—kill! 

“Further up the river a creek flows in. There are 
trees along the bank. There is a very narrow beach with 
the banks rising abruptly and prevented from falling in 
by the tree roots. Here the middle-sized frogs gather 


THE RED DEVIL, 


163 


in the evenings and call in middle-sized voices: Wis— 
sa—he—con! Wis—sa—he—con! Wis—sa—he—con! 

“Further up, the stream is deeper. There are high 
banks which shelve off rapidly into deeper water. Along 
the edges solemn shadows form as the sun sets, and here 
the big bullies gather and croak in solemn tones: Man— 
yunk! Man—yunk! Man—yunk!” 

“I like that story” said Helen, “it is cute.” 

“Yes, I like it, Doctor, that’s a good one,” I said. 

“You never told me that one before,” said Kitty 
Camden, reproachfully. 

The Doctor laughed. Then he began telling us about 
his travels. His wife had accompanied him, and occa¬ 
sionally she broke into the narrative to remind him of 
something he had forgotten. I have forgotten most of 
what he told us but I remember one part clearly. He 
said they had traveled over the Splugen on the Via Mala 
in a one-horse victoria driven by a black-browed, surly 
Italian. Coming down the southern slopes they passed 
through great groves of giant chestnuts. Nothing else 
would grow there, for immense rocks covered the surface 
and made cultivation impossible. These trees bore crops 
of the large Italian chestnuts with which we are familiar 
from seeing them on our fruit stands. These are 
gathered by the peasants and stored in bags in the lofts 
overhead until they are well dried. They are then taken 


12 


164 


the: red devie 


down and beaten with sticks. This breaks the hulls 
which are winnowed out. The meat is then beaten to 
flour in mortars and polenta or mush made of it which 
forms almost the only food of the peasants. 

Ill 

As Trenton had not been reached the preceding Satur¬ 
day, I determined to try again and to take Sally with 
me. Sally said she would be delighted to go. Next 
morning at about eight we were ready for the trip. It 
was a beautiful morning and Sally was as sparklingly 
pretty as a morning daisy. It was a pleasure to look at 
her. She had a parcel done up in paper which I stored 
in the tonneau. When I turned the crank nothing hap¬ 
pened. I turned the crank again—still nothing happened. 
At the third turn there were two explosions and then 
silence. Fourth turn, ditto. Fifth turn, the engine ran 
for some time and just as we were ready to move stopped 
again. By this time my patience had a very thin edge, 
but, fortunately, the next turn gave the desired result and 
we were off. 

My car had a serious defect: the radiator was too small 
and the water grew hot and boiled about every three 
miles. If there was much climbing the distance traveled 
before this happened was less. In consequence it was 
necessary to let the boiling water escape and provide a 


THE RED DEVIL 


165 

fresh charge, which required frequent running to the 
pump with a collapsible bucket. 

About three miles from our starting place we reached 
a roadside spring and I replaced the water and plied the 
oil can. Not many yards below the spring we overtook 
a young lady walking in the direction we were going. 
It was Miss Homer on her way to the village just below. 
We stopped and asked her to ride with us. She was on 
her way to her school for some books which had been 
forgotten. On reaching the school we were invited to 
inspect it. It was an old-fashioned place, painted yellow 
outside, with a large coal stove at one side and black¬ 
boards surrounding the room on all the available wall 
space. There was a bench before the teacher’s desk on 
which the lazy or naughty pupils stood during the noon 
or recess periods. 

After we left her Sally was very inquisitive. She 
wanted to know who she was, where she came from, how 
and where I had met her. Satisfied on these points we 
proceeded happily on our way. Presently the car began 
to steam and I to look for a watering place. The canal 
was close to the road, and after considerable searching 
I found a place where it was possible to reach the water 
with my bucket. I succeeded in doing so after some 
stretching but in lifting the bucket the weight of the 
water overbalanced me and down into the water I slid. 


i66 


THE RED DEVIE 


Sally cried out in alarm but wasted no time in thrust¬ 
ing a stick from the roadside into my hands. Then I was 
slowly and carefully pulled in and helped up the bank. 
I was in a pretty pickle. Wet from head to foot; my 
collar and shirt in collapse; my shoes filled with water, 
and my hat gone. I told Sally it did not matter. It was 
warm and I would soon dry off. As for my hat and col¬ 
lar I could replace them at the next country store. She 
said I was very brave and she was proud of me; and 
as she said this her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were 
full of rosy color. I had been very much surprised at 
her prompt, vigorous action in helping me and also at 
the strength she displayed. With her permission I re¬ 
moved my coat and shoes and laid them to dry in the 
tonneau. Then with a considerable increase in cordiality 
we once more took the road. At frequent intervals we 
were obliged to water the car and might fairly be said 
to have worked our passage. At Lehnenburg or Monroe 
we entered the red shale country which extends to Tren¬ 
ton and below. In many places this shale is covered 
with river sand or is replaced by sandstone rock belong¬ 
ing to the same formation but less strongly colored with 
iron oxide. Over roads varying in character but mostly 
bad we proceeded. From Erwinna to Point Pleasant the 
road was especially bad, being both rocky and muddy. 
By careful driving I managed to avoid splashing the car 


THE RED DEVIL 


167 


very badly. At New Hope we crossed the river and pro¬ 
ceeded toward Trenton. It was now time for lunch and 
we drew up by the roadside under a maple and Sally pro¬ 
duced her package which contained a lunch fit for kings. 
This we discussed amid a cheerful rain of jokes and 
chaff. 

After lunch we proceeded and soon entered State 
Street and turned down South Broad. There were few 
cars in those days and no traffic policemen so that we 
could turn the car on South Broad and draw up before 
the bookstore. 

I was a great admirer of Stockton and Stevenson and 
so I found was Sally. In the stock of second hand books 
by these authors we found copies of “The Lady and the 
Tiger,” “The Casting Away of Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. 
Aleshine,” “The Christmas Wreck” and “Amos Kil- 
bright” by Stockton and “The Black Arrow,” “Kid¬ 
napped” and “The Strange Case of Mr. Jekyll and Mr. 
Hyde” by Stephenson. These we considered a great find 
and the price was very reasonable. They were stowed 
in the tonneau and Sally took her seat while I turned the 
crank. This time we started off without trouble. 

We had got as far as Lambertville on the return when 
trouble with the car began to develop. The engine would 
run properly for awhile and then it would slow down and 
almost stop, then it would start running properly again. 


i68 


THE RED DEVIE 


This continued until we were several miles above New 
Hope. Here the engine gave out completely. After try¬ 
ing in vain to start it again I abandoned hope and Sally 
and I pushed the car to the roadside and started off for 
help. We walked nearly a mile before we came to a 
house. I knocked at the door which was opened by a 
nice-looking boy of about ten years. In answer to my 
enquiry he said his Pop was at the barn and if we would 
sit down he would go after him. Presently the boy’s 
mother came in and we told her the car had broken down. 
She thought we had better spend the night there and go 
on in the morning. She had a spare room which we 
might use. I thought further explanations were in order 
and the old lady said if I would be content with a cot the 
young lady might have the spare room and I could sleep 
in the attic. I thanked her and, after consulting Sally, 
accepted. When the farmer came in we found nothing 
else could be done. He promised to drive me to New 
Hope in the morning and get a mechanic. I lay awake 
for a long time wondering what could be the matter. 
Finally it occurred to me that the gasoline might have 
given out. The next morning we had an early breakfast 
and the farmer and I drove to the car. Sure enough 
we found the tank as dry as a bone. Then we went on 
to New Hope and after some searching found gasoline 
and partly filled the tank. After turning the engine over 


THE RED DEVIL, 


169 


several times it caught and we drove up to the house. 
Sally seemed to be worried but she said very little. On 
the way home she said she was afraid her mother might 
worry and wished there were some way to get word to 
her. I suggested that we telegraph but we found all the 
offices closed. 

About 11 o’clock we reached home. I went in with 
Sally. Her mother seemed worried. She said she had 
been very much distressed by our non-arrival the night 
before and looked at me searchingly. I told her I had 
been very stupid but she must remember I had run a car 
only a short time and was not very experienced. Sally 
said she was sure I was not to blame. 

The next day I needed some money and went to the 
bank. Jim Barkley waited on me and after he had 
cashed the check said: 

“I hear you were stalled the other day because you had 
no gasoline? Pretty slick excuse.” 

“No,” I said, “do you think so?” 

“Ho, ho,” he said, “ho, ho!” 

“He, he,” I said, “he, he!” 

He looked pretty black at this but said nothing more. 

I went to call on Sally that evening and she greeted me 
with smiles. She wanted to know whether I had caught 
cold? I said no, I had not. She told me she thought 
Jim Barkley was very disagreeable. He had been making 


170 


THE RED DEVIE 


nasty remarks about me. He had told Hetty Poiret that 
I was a prig. She thought he was very ugly-tempered 
and very stupid. Before I left she asked me whether I 
often took cold. I said I did. She advised me if I felt 
I was taking cold to soak my feet in hot water in a 
wooden bucket, the water should be very hot and contain 
a teaspoonful of soda. Then I must wipe my feet with a 
dry, hot towel and get into bed. She did not say retire, 
she said get into bed. I had not had such advice since 
my mother died two years before. She looked very 
earnest and very much concerned as she said it. It was 
not a romantic speech but somehow I liked to have her 
say it. 


IV 

The following Saturday I planned to take a trip to 
Doylestown. I had some relatives there whom I had not 
seen for some time and Fanny and Mary Hillpot had 
agreed to go with me. Their cousin lived there. I was 
doubtful about my ability to drive my car to the Hillpot 
house and experiment proved my doubt to be well 
founded. By making a strong spurt I succeeded in get¬ 
ting up the first hill but stuck fast on the second. I 
climbed the rest of the hill afoot. Mary was as pretty 
as a picture and I admired her very much. She cer¬ 
tainly had beautiful teeth and was all smiles when I 


THE RED DEVIL 


171 

arrived. The girls were soon ready and we walked to 
the car and started. Mary was beside me and Fanny in 
the tonneau with some wraps, two umbrellas and some 
lunch. We were nearing Kintnersville when dark clouds 
began to pile up on the horizon and presently it began 
to rain. The girls were in the tonneau each with an 
umbrella and I was on the front seat with a rubber coat 
and hat. The rain came down in bucketfuls and then 
began to blow. The water collected in a pool on the front 
seat and ran down my leg into my shoe. The girls’ feet 
and skirts got wet and Mary began to cry. Fanny was 
just as wet but she laughed and seemed to be enjoying 
herself. I drove as rapidly as possible and got under a 
shed at Femdale. Mary was as cross as a wet hen. Her 
hair had lost its curl, her hat was awry and she showed 
neither smile nor white teeth. The girls went into the 
hotel and after quite a long stay came out somewhat drier 
and ready to proceed. But Mary was sulky and dis¬ 
agreeable. After the shower passed over we started 
again, but now there was mud everywhere—thin splashy 
red mud that flew over everything. At Pipersville Hill it 
was necessary for the girls to walk up the hill and their 
feet were very muddy and wet. Between Pipersville and 
Plumstedville there was a swampy spot where the car 
stuck fast. Fanny helped me get stones to put under the 
wheels while Mary sat on the fence and glowered at us. 


IJ2 


the: red devie 


Finally we got started again and reached Doylestown. 
Here we separated. While I was visiting my cousins a 
hostler washed the car and after it was ready I drove 
around, took the girls in and started for home. We got 
back without accident and then I visited the Oldit place. 
Sarah and Jane were at home but Miss Homer had not 
arrived. We sat on the front porch and the girls raked 
over the characters of all the neighbors. I found they 
had had a disagreement also with Miss Homer. There 
were several vicious digs given after she arrived and I 
departed somewhat depressed. 

The next evening I took Sally to Dr. Camden’s to 
call on the young visitors. We found Jim Barkley there. 
He paid marked attention to Hetty Poiret all the evening. 
Occasionally he glanced at Sally or me but we avoided 
him as much as possible. We did not have a very pleas¬ 
ant evening. Searles and Kitty had been quarreling and 
were still skirmishing. We left early and walked home 
in the moonlight. 

The next morning people who met me looked unusually 
pleasant and seemed amused. I could not understand it 
until I reached Sally’s house again. She met me at the 
door and called to her mother as I came in: 

“Here he is mother! Now we shall see!” 


THE RED DEVIE 


173 


“Did you know/’ she said turning to me, “that Jim 
Barkley says that you were in Doylestown yesterday 
driving two girls in a red devil as drunk as a lord ?” 

“No,” I replied, “I did not. I was in Doylestown 
driving my red car and Fanny and Mary Hillpot were 
with me but I was not drunk. I had had nothing at all 
to drink.” 

“There, Mother,” said Sally, “I told you he did not 
drink.” 

“And did you know,” she continued that he says we 
stayed at a farm house together on Saturady night, and 
then he winks.” 

“The dirty dog,” I said, “I think I can stop his mouth.” 

“Sally and her mother were both in tears but I com¬ 
forted them by telling them that I would bring the 
farmer and his wife up next day. I did so and drove 
around to Dr. Camden's house. I told the Doctor my 
story and asked him to question the farmer and his wife. 
He agreed to this and did so. Then I drove them to the 
bank and asked Mr. Davis, the President of the bank 
to listen to them in Jim Barkley’s presence. Jim de¬ 
clared that he had been misquoted but I brought Hetty 
Poiret to the bank to contradict him. Then I took the 
farmer and his wife back home after warmly thanking 
them. 


/ 


174 the red devie 

That evening I went again to see Sally. She blushed 
beautifully as she opened the door. “Sally!" I said, “I 
came here to tell you that you are the dearest, sweetest, 
prettiest, smartest, nicest girl in the world, and that I 
love you, love you, love you." 

“Oh, do you?" said Sally, “I am so glad." 

“Did you ever hear of the young man whose ecstasy 
was so great under similar conditions that he broke the 
poor girl’s ribs? I did not break Sally’s ribs but I held 
her tight and she laughed and her eyes sparkled and 
then she cried a little. Presently she said she must tell 
her father and mother. They all came in presently and 
shook hands with me and her mother kissed me. “If 
Sally loves you I must too," she said, and then she 
wiped her eyes. They both looked sad. “You know, 
she is our baby," her father said, “and it is pretty hard to 
lose her. Please be good to her." 

I said: “I don’t think I am much account, but Sally 
says she loves me and I’m sure I love her, and I will 
promise you to be good to her and try to be a better man 
every day." 

Well, we had a fashionable wedding in a month from 
that time. Jim Barkley was not present because he was 
looking for another job in New York. Sally and I have 
been married now for twenty years and have two fine 


THE RED DEVIE 


175 


boys in college. Sally is getting as round as a dumpling, 
but I like her so much I never notice what she looks like. 
Neither do the boys. So much kindness shines from her 
eyes when she looks at us that we see nothing else. 


SCIENTIFIC BOOKS 


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166 Figures. 

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Illustrations. 

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PARSONS—The Chemistry and Literature of Beryllium. 8vo. Pages 
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